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[notyourramona]

Chapter 2 of Stages of Me

Tensions increase as characters do not see eye to eye like they used to. Main character struggles to feel respected by her crewmates while some of them desperately just try to reconnect with MC.

Word count: 7,516

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18+(for future chapters)

Minor Crimson Fleet spoilers thus far.

Chapter one

            His boots were propped on the console and his hat tipped to cover a part of his face as the ship flew itself into the stars. Sam was trying his best to hush all the noise that was at the forefront of his thoughts in this moment and it was becoming extremely difficult. The new ship felt impersonable and cold but he knew it was because of his knee jerk hesitance to accept change at first. Still, he wasn’t fond of the new knowledge of how the ship was obtained and he was even less fond of how the last conversation he had tried to have with Ghoul turned into another argument. He knew what he was trying to say it was just the delivery, per usual, came out wrong. She didn’t have to subjugate her life to those dark impulses out of necessity any longer. It felt like he was a witness of how much of her soul was being drained from the perpetual motion of events she put herself through. If it wasn’t pushing her body through stars know what when she made physical contact with the Artifacts; it was the alcohol or drugs, even if she tried to deny the use of them, that deteriorated the real version of Ghoul he knew months ago. The version of her that pulled him in with such intensity as if they were two stars who were succumbing to a gravitational pull to come together as one. He could still taste her sweet lips on his tongue when he looked at her sometimes and it pained him that she never really acknowledged what happened between them. It wasn’t like Sam expected a commitment after one kiss but he knew deep down they had some chemistry. Some very real chemistry and that chemistry was slowly turning into tension that was repelling both of them as fast as they started colliding.

Chapter 2: Hemostasis pt. 2

            “Dad.” Corra’s voice interrupted his thoughts and honestly, he was relieved she did. He slowly sat his body back into a normal sitting position to give his daughter his full attention while also trying to ignore the stiffness in his joints.

            “Yeah kiddo?” He said fondly.

            “Do you miss the Frontier?” She asked and he was curious where this line of questioning was going to go. Corra was standing there hugging herself nervously and it then occurred to Sam that his little girl was having some goodbye blues.

            “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. Come here, sweat pea.” He always made sure to be as honest with her as was appropriate. She may have had a birthday recently but she was always going to be his little girl. She approached him with a bit of a scuffle and when she got close enough, he stood and gave her an Ashta sized hug. “It has only been a couple hours but I do miss the coziness of the ship. It was our home away from home.”

            “I miss it a lot already too.” Corra looked up to him. “You looked sad, like you missed it too.” Now that last line surprised him and he started to stammer a bit.

            “Uh, well. I didn’t think I looked that sad now.” Sam always did his best to shield her from any of his woes and he was just grateful she thought it was because of the ship and not the real reason. That was a conversation if he could avoid forever, he would.

“But this new ship is really nice and I think it will grow on the both of us. Captain has some good taste but don’t tell her I said that. It might get to her head.” He pointed to his own head when he said that for emphasis and to get a small chuckle out of his daughter.

            Corra did respond to him with that little joyous laugh of hers and he could see that the small joke had eased a some of her distress from her mind. That was enough for Sam and one of the main reason’s he loved telling her his little silly jokes even when she would get embarrassed by him.

            “Thanks dad.” She squeezed her arms around him one more time before she let go. “I am almost done organizing all of my books! I have so much more room for new books now!”

            “Is that so?” He raised his eyebrow as his hands instinctively went to rest onto the belt that held his pants. It felt like a default position for him most times and occasionally brought him the most comfort for some reason. “Well, we will see how well you keep up with your area of the room and with your chores on the ship and maybe. And hear me when I say maybe, you will get a larger booker allowance.” Corra squealed a bit with delight and did a small twirl of excitement. Sam knew right then and there he was most definitely going to have to increase her book allowance anyway because once she had her mind on something she was going to find a way to get it.

            “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best Dad!” Corra hugged him one more time before skipping away and seemingly forgetting she was even upset about The Frontier. The conversation had distracted him as well and it was one of the many things, he appreciated about being a father. No matter how distraught things felt some days he knew that as long as Corra was set up with a better future that was all that mattered. In fact, it was the driving point for him to come clean with a lot of his older habits and for him to quit his binge days on Neon. He stood alone in the cockpit once more and a part of him had the urge to just start walking. Sam followed his feet through the hallways of the ship and in the distance, he heard faint whispering. It was then he realized his intent was to try to reconnect with Ghoul again even if it was to just for them both to hash it out until they were on the same page again. He hated seeing her so defensive and to watch her slowly push him away. Sam was hoping desperately there would be a point very soon that made her see that he truly cared about her enough to stop her from hurting herself and it wasn’t a ploy to control what she does. It reminded him of himself within the first weeks before he decided to come clean. The world felt like it was after him for simply just trying to live but in reality, he wasn’t living at all. His boots echoed within the hall and the whispering ahead soon stopped and he heard Andreja speak with confidence about something.

            Sam looked ahead and saw that Andreja was close to Ghoul even from where she stood and something about that closeness gave him a ping of jealousy. He knew they heard him come in when Andreja had looked at him in a skeptical gaze that she liked to give people. It was when her brows furrowed a fraction but her brown eyes looked as if they were daring you to challenge her.   

            “Wake me up when we arrive. Sarah ordered me to rest.” Ghoul spoke and that was when Sam noticed how annoyed Ghoul looked even with her eyes closed. In that moment Sam chickened out from his original plan of confronting her and walked over to the kitchenette to make a fresh cup of coffee. They only had about four cups to chose from and the closest one was a red coffee mug that said ‘I’m a House Va’ruun Spy’. Sam started to heat up the water in their electric kettle so he could at least have instant coffee and while he waited his fingers gently tapped the counter.

            “Do you want to me to watch the ship?” Andreja said softly as she stood next to Sam and it almost made him jump because he didn’t even hear her walk up. Her stealth skills always got the best of him when he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. 

            “Uh.” It was that moment he had realized that while he was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t greeted either of them when he walked in. It wasn’t like he had to but he was trying extremely hard to play it cool even if his mind was all over the place. If he didn’t think Andreja could kick his ass with a few close-combat moves he would have liked to take a moment to try to interrogate her about what she was thinking when she agreed to encourage their captain to play cards on The Key. Andreja, out of all of them, was normally the strict personality with the least amount of morally grey qualities to her so it made even less sense that she was okay with being there any more than he would of.

“Yeah, if you are comfortable with it. I could use a bite to eat and a wink of sleep myself.” Andreja was now leaning back onto the other side of the counter they were both standing at and her arms were crossed as she watched him make the cup of coffee. He thought for a moment he saw a small smile appear on her face after she had read what the mug had said but he was also serious about needing a bit of sleep so he could have imagined it.

            “Piloting isn’t my expertise but considering it’s mostly going to be in autopilot from here out I think I can manage.” She said with a bit of humor in her voice. Andreja had taken a quick peek at Ghoul for a moment before she continued and the notion made Sam brace himself. Then she softly spoke to him. “I won’t pretend I do not know what is going on but I also know nothing I will say will make much of a difference.”

            “Then why say anything at all?” Sam said with a passiveness that slipped before he could stop himself. He took a sip of his coffee to try to ignore that happened.

            “Because you both happen to have grown on me very much and I am not enjoying how long this conflict is lasting. You need to let her learn on her own.”

            “Yeah, and how long will that be?”

            “As long as it takes.” Andreja shrugged as if it was an obvious answer. “You forget she didn’t have a someone lay a foundation for her when she was younger like some of us. We both may have not had the best of families but at least we had one.”

Sam thought about Jacob Coe for a moment and hated that he couldn’t disagree with her even if he didn’t really have fond memories of his father. He didn’t know the details about Andreja���s past but had an idea that she grew up like some of the LIST families do just outside of the Settled Systems, independent and all alone out there.

“There comes a time where you have to accept responsibility for your actions no matter what your past has been like.” He said with conviction. Sam could hear the harshness in his tone but he truly believed Ghoul was bigger than what she has been through. Hell, he had seen her recover from the worst with his own eyes and he was more than willing to be the anchor she needed to keep herself grounded. Andreja sighed at him and stopped leaning on the counter transforming her stance into something a bit more intimidating. Sam couldn’t tell if she was doing that subconsciously or purposely.

“I think you should consider being… softer with your approach. I know she may not always be in the right but I believe in her to make the right choices when it comes down to it.” Andreja’s accent was emphasizing her words and her eyes burned with a confidence in their Captain. Sam rarely saw that passion within her unless it was to slay their enemies so he knew in this moment she was talking from the heart. Sam was mulling over what Andreja had said for a moment. Ghoul did say some really fucked up shit to him earlier today but he also was the one who came off more judgmental than he intended. They both heard a small gasp and it made them both tense up as they turned to see Ghoul sitting awake and covered in sweat.

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The feeling of falling overwhelmed Ghoul’s nervous system as she suddenly sat awake from her deep slumber. It was easier to blame the lack of sleep on a small ship with no room on it than to acknowledge the fact that some of her nightmares had slowly been coming back again. There was a time period in the beginning of her travels where she seemed to be free of the terrors her dreams brought her but lately it felt like her brain was trying to plague her all over again. Her skin felt sticky in sweat and she applied pressure to her face with her hands in an attempt to soothe herself for the moment, to feel she was real. Ghoul felt eyes on her and it distracted her enough from her nightmare.

“I’m fine.” Her hands muffled her voice but she didn’t bother to wait for them to ask. Their concern was written on their faces as if she was shot and bleeding out. The both of them could be overbearing when they worked together and it was something she both loved yet hated.

“That seems to be your new catchphrase.” Sam said sarcastically at her before he went on with whatever he was doing in the first place. Ghoul dropped her hands from her face just to roll her eyes at him. She enjoyed that they each had their own bed at this point but she thought about having bigger goals next time like for everyone to get their own rooms in the next upgrade. Andreja had yet to say anything to Ghoul and honestly, she appreciated it because Andreja was skilled with knowing when words were preferred or not. Ghoul pushed herself off her bed and tried to fix her bed hair and smooth out her clothing.

“Are we close to Cydonia? How long was I out?” Ghoul looked around the ship to see if there was a clock but she remembered the Constellation watch on her left wrist and it showed she had only been out for 25 minutes. That newfound knowledge made her want to scream. “Never mind.”

“I was heading to the cockpit to take over for Sam unless you wanted to operate the ship, Captain.” Andreja offered and that was when Ghoul realized none of them were attending the ship. Sam had heated up something and was sitting at the table, stuffing his face full of brown gravy and some kind of meat. Even if the sight of that goop made her want to gag, she couldn’t blame him because they didn’t have a lot of time to eat on the last planet. Ghoul couldn’t tell if Andreja either really didn’t want to man the new ship or she knew Ghoul would rather be distracted after waking up like that.

“Yeah, good idea.” Ghoul’s hand found itself tangled in her hair once again and then on the back of her neck subconsciously trying to release some of the tension. “I’ll go do that. You both should rest, you deserve it.” Her last line is what caught the attention of Sam before she finally walked her way to the cockpit as she snapped and clapped her hands. Her eyes felt heavy but she was going to do her best to be in a better mood than earlier.

The cockpit was dark but all of the controls and buttons were lit up in different shades of green, yellow, white, and red for their various categories. When Ghoul sat in the blue faux leather chair, she felt her body relax into it as if it was made for her. The captain’s chair on this ship was bigger and it was just another benefit this ship had to offer that gave her pride for being able to pull this big purchase off. Though there was a lot to marvel in front of her, her mind felt clouded and heavy as she sat there with the accumulation of all her thoughts. She regretted not grabbing herself a cup of coffee before manning the ship but she knew it was only a bit of time before her mind would clear again. 

She went to prop her feet on the dash and as she did, she accidentally kicked a switch that triggered a chain of events that abruptly caused the ship to lurch forward a bit and stop in place. Ghoul herself fell face forward onto the console with a rough smack and the sharp pain from impact made her hiss.

“Damnit.” She growled at herself and she looked out ahead into the stars to see if she could tell where they stopped. That was when she noticed this ship’s dash had the navigation center built in to the left of her and she was excited about the convenience of this. It indicated that there were just on the outskirts of the Sol system and that provided some relief. The feeling soon ended as she watched two Va’ruun ships warp into their field of vision. Ghoul was trying to think quickly on whether it was smarter to go in hot or cut the power to the engines and hope they didn’t pick them up.  

“What is that?” Ghoul heard Sam ask as Andreja, and Corra walked behind him into the room of the cockpit to see what exactly caused that minor malfunction of the ship. Ghoul was a bit embarrassed about knocking them out of warp in such a silly manner but she didn’t have time to be coy.

“Two House Va’ruun ships warped into the same space we just did and I accidentally kicked the ship out of autopilot.” Ghoul said with composure as she initiated the process to power down the ship to its minimum output levels. It felt like it was taking her longer than usual to perform this particular task because she had yet had an opportunity to go over the controls before she took her very short nap. She found herself looking for the reactor gauge for a moment and Sam silently pointed to it as if he read her mind. She gave him a grateful smile as she finished up the process. There were two passenger seats that sat one on each side of the captain’s chair and Andreja and Sam got in their positions without question or further context.

“Hey Kiddo, my mind would be at ease if I knew you were buckled up over there.” Ghoul said to Corra with a softness she only reserved for the tiny Coe. Corra didn’t say a word but immediately sat in one of the extra seats behind the three of them. Ghoul caught Sam giving her a smile of gratitude while he finished setting up his own buckles. She knew that Corra was less likely to ask questions if Ghoul said something from her captain’s chair because that kid knew when it she was giving orders from the chair it was go-time.

“Plan?” Andreja asked as she stared at the other ships with disgust. Ghoul knowing why she would make that face looked at Andreja with a subtle sympathy.

“I would prefer not to get a scratch on our new ship but if we are detected we are most likely going to have to blast them out of space.” Ghoul now went into command mode and it was a role she was felt comfortable in when they got into situations like these. “Sam please keep an eye on ship vitals and you have a better shot so I will switch missiles to your seat. Andreja ballistics will be your friend today and if I cannot get us to warp before being caught then I guess we are going to see how much mobility this ship really has today.” In a unison they both said ‘Aye, Captain’ and took over their positions while Ghoul slowly begun to move the ship forward.

“Corra, please grab the spacesuit above you and put it on while the ship is still stable. I am sure your father would rather us be safe than sorry.” Ghoul threw the command behind her before locking her eyes on the path ahead. The ship was larger than the Frontier had felt and she could feel how sensitive the throttle systems were. It was a delicate balance of not using too much power to be detected but still make some progress to get out of their scanner radius. Over the comms they could hear the enemy ships hail each other and it sounded like that were looking for something in particular.

“Easy now.” Sam whispered to Ghoul after her hand slipped and pushed the ship forward a little too fast. The enemy thankfully was still unaware of their presence and if she could help it, she would keep it that way till the very end. The three of them were feeling the immense pressure to not make a sound and be a hair trigger a way from engaging with hostile ships. The time seemed to be dragging out as they were getting closer to their targeted area to warp out. Ghoul could taste victory on the tip of her tongue.

“What’s that?! Get them!” They heard the voices of the Va’ruun ships come through the comms and Ghoul’s heart sank as she quickly begun to power up the Longsword. She was really hoping she wouldn’t have to fight in her new baby today but it looks like the universe had other plans for her, as per usual.

“Fuck” She cursed under her breath as she tried to control her initial reaction. The last thing Ghoul wanted to do was alarm Corra and she could see that Andreja and Sam were both doing their best to stay commposed. “Weapons ready?”

“Missiles.” Sam confirmed.

“Ballistics.” Andreja confirmed as well.

“Well let’s see how she flies.” Ghoul said as she heard the ship warm up to the new surge of power. She applied full force to the thrusters and they begun their path to the other two ships.

“Fuck now there are three of them!” The enemy ships yelled and that statement took the three crew members by surprise. Behind the two Va’ruun ships were two Crimson Fleet vessels and they didn’t appear to be the usual outfitted Crimson Fleet ships.

“Andreja please run a scan on those ships.” Ghoul commanded and her body tensed with anticipation till she saw the ship IDs within the scanner. Those identification numbers were eerily similar to ones she had been reading about earlier and then the realization hit her. It was Delgado and Naeva. She felt her heart sink.

“Sam, remember that conversation we had about those of us who are on a need-to-know bases?” Ghoul leaned into him and asked softly so Corra wouldn’t hear them. She knew even if the tiny Coe did, she most likely wouldn’t figure out what they were talking about. Sam caught the cue and even though he didn’t look extremely pleased he went ahead to unbuckle himself from position.

“Get us the hell out of here as quickly as you can.” Sam whispered back to her before he motioned for Corra to come with him.

“What? Why are we-.” Corra began to protest but Sam wasn’t allowing her any wiggle room for protesting in this moment.

“It’s the Captain’s order. We have to go now.” Ghoul saw in Sam’s eyes it pained him to be so abrupt with his daughter but they had both agreed under no circumstances should Corra know about Ghoul’s involvement with the Crimson Fleet. It was not only for his daughter’s safety, were anything happen, but because Ghoul also could not bring herself to share that side of the world with the child. Once the two of the Coe’s were out of the cockpit and for sure in the crew’s station of the back of the ship, Ghoul sighed heavily. There weren’t a lot of options and it looked like the battle had already begun.

“The missiles are now assigned to me but I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on ship vitals for me.” Ghoul said to Andreja who hadn’t said a word. She knew Andreja recognized what the scanner had inferred and understood the short conversation Ghoul had with Sam.

“Yes, Captain.” Andreja’s voice was controlled and calm. Her cool composure was the one thing that was helping Ghoul not unravel herself and she was supposed to be the leader. Ghoul directed the ship forward with max speed and as she swung it around the House Va’ruun ships there were lasers that hit one of the wings of the ship. Inside she cursed herself to hell but she kept her hands steady and Andreja without needing command already started to deliver the might of their new ballistic weapons system. The Crimson Fleet ships were originally shooting at all moving objects within their field of vision but they soon noticed that the Longsword wasn’t engaging with them. Once both of the House Va’ruun ships exploded into smithereens from the combined forces of the three ships was when Ghoul finally received a hail from Delgado and Naeva.

“Do we got ourselves a friend or a foe?” Naeva’s spunky voice came through laced with challenge. Ghoul took a deep breath trying her best to get herself into the headspace of the ruthless Rook they welcomed into the Fleet not so long ago.

“Could be either depending on how many fucking times your weapons make contact with my ship, Naeva!” Ghoul added a bit of cocky gravel to her voice that sounded almost out of body to her own ears. She even noticed a shift in Andreja’s body that noted that it sounded off to her as well.

“Oh, would you look at that Delgado? The Rook is alive and well. Looks like she has been dicking around instead of meeting with your contact.” Naeva completely ignored the threat Ghoul gave but that was the type of game she liked to play. Naeva was the first to smile in someone’s face then smash their skull on the closest blunt object. She wasn’t second in command to Delgado for nothing.

“I really hope you have a good explanation for this, Rook.” Delgado’s voice came through this time. His rough mannerism traveled through the comms as well giving Ghoul a shiver down her back.

“You can see the reason if you open your eyes, Delgado.” Ghoul quipped with the sound of disbelief as if the reason was so obvious it was offensive that they didn’t notice. It was like a knife’s edge when she spoke to the King of the Crimson Fleet. She couldn’t be seen as a weak individual but there was a pecking order that was to be adhered to or there would be consequences.

“Are you referring to that large trash heap you are piloting? You didn’t take me as someone who would pride themselves with trash.” Ghoul could hear the smile within his insult.

“Well, if you think so poorly of my new vessel. I guess that just confirms the man’s life I ended to retrieve it had nothing to lose after all.” She lied through her teeth as she laughed about her imaginary murder.

“Enough games, Rook.” Naeva commanded through the box, “We have some catching up to do and it’s clear you can’t get something done without a fucking tight leash.”

“Naeva, don’t.” Delgado warned his second in command. “You do owe us an explanation, Rook, for missing in action for over a week now and not even completing the task assigned to you. If I were to know any better, I would think you are trying to leave the Fleet.”

“And no one and I mean no one, leaves the Crimson Fleet.” Naeva threatened. This was slowly becoming a very complicated situation and Ghoul knew she couldn’t just follow them to the Key with Corra on board, Sam would never forgive her even if he stayed on ship with her.

“This can all be easily explained if you want me to lay out my entire schedule including when I have eaten, took a piss break, and slept.” She deflected to humor because it felt like the safest option without seeming suspicious. Ghoul’s humor was a mask for the fear that was creeping up inside her. It was normally very easy to persuade herself out of sticky situations but this time it was obvious she was backed into a corner and it was quite possible they had been out here looking for her.

“I’d be careful with who you are speaking to.” Naeva threatened Ghoul again.

“If it’s so easy to explain then there shouldn’t be an issue with you docking onto my ship and coming aboard to explain.” Delgado didn’t leave any room for her to refuse and she knew if she did, she’d be putting the other lives on her ship in danger.

“Fine, if that’s what it will take to get you both off my ass.” She let some of her genuine frustration come through with that statement. “Give me some time to dock and gather some of my loot on this ship. I’ll have someone retrieve the ship later so I expect you both to leave it unharmed.” Ghoul wasn’t in a place to be making demands since they were both already suspicious of her and her last whereabouts but she need to at least try to ensure everyone else’s safety.

“If it means so much to you, then fine. But if we suspect you are telling us anything other than the truth the ship will be blown to pieces and you will be floating along with it.” Those were Delgado’s last words before they ended communications and both ships waited for Ghoul in the black void to come on board. When Ghoul was sure their comms was no longer connected, she let out the biggest sigh of relief and sunk into the back of her chair. There were a lot of thoughts and emotions swimming violently in her head. It was a few moments later when she noticed the face of an extremely unhappy Andreja.

“Did you just agree to get onto Delgado’s ship, alone?” She asked and Ghoul knew it was a rhetorical question and more of a ‘what the hell were you thinking’ type question.

“What was the alternative?” Ghoul challenged her, not really wanting to hear any criticism about how she could have handled the delicate situation. It wasn’t really like they had given her a list of options or without it ending them being space dust.

“I am not sure but I don’t think going onto a Crimson Fleet ship with no backup was the right call.” Andreja protested some more and Ghoul just looked at the two ships ahead of them trying her best not to engage with the argument. Normally Andreja knew to just trust Ghoul but she could see the worry on her friend’s face.  

“Perhaps not, but you need to remember I am undercover. I have to be in these situations and I have to be able to keep you all safe while putting myself into these situations.”

“What situation?” Sam had come back to the cockpit alone thankfully, but it was horrible timing. Ghoul wasn’t ready to hear it from him as well.

“Delgado requests our Captain to get onto his ship and explain what she has been doing the past week instead of meeting with his contact. Alone!” Andreja beat Ghoul to the punch of giving him an explanation and Ghoul gave her an angry stare.

            “Excuse me?” Sam said in disbelief and Ghoul felt the room tense up further. The thoughts that swarmed her mind were getting to a point where she couldn’t really hear anything else that was going on and she felt on the edge of exploding.

            “Again, sorry for choosing the path that kept all of you alive. Next time I will just let our enemies blast us out the sky and if there is a next life you both can be angry with my decisions then!” She was feeling extremely defensive and annoyed with the two of them and decided instead of hearing anything else either of them had to say she would rather not be in the room. So, she got out of the chair and pushed past Sam in anger. Sam however was not about to let her run off so easily because he was livid himself. It wasn’t long before his heavy footsteps quickened their pace behind her and she felt herself get cornered into one of the storage rooms.

            “Hey! Stop!” He said with an irate vigor in his voice. Ghoul was staring at the shelved wall in the storage room acting as if she was trying to look for something. She had no interested in repeating the same conversation over and over. Last she checked she was their captain and they were supposed to trust her, even if it seemed like she was throwing herself to the wolves. Sam’s hand was on her arm as he twisted her around with a force she wasn’t expecting. It was a force she hadn’t felt from him since before they left New Atlantis.

            “Stop, stop pushing us out and listen.” He practically begged her and his eyes were burning into hers as both his hands held her into place in front of him. “I don’t know what has been going on in that pretty little head of yours lately but we need to talk, now.”

            “Talk to you about what? The same conversation? How you don’t agree with my actions? How neither of you seem to trust in my decision making when it matters?” Ghoul responded back as quick as a gunshot and her face was masked with anger but really, she was just tired of having these fights with Sam. She missed the silence they use to be able to share comfortably or when he would just know when she needed something to make her laugh. The tension was just so fucking overwhelming. “I’m undercover. Do I want to be? No! But it seems like everyone in this fucking universe needs something from me and I can only do so many fucking things right.”

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            “Ghoul you-.” Sam looked as if he was ready to fire right back at her but he felt the sudden defeat in her body before he saw the tears that begun to swell in her yellow eyes. His posture and grip softened for a moment and he remembered the advice Andreja had given to him earlier. He found his right hand gently pressing her bright red hair out her face and he thought about the several colors she had changed it to in the past three months they had traveled together and something about that made him smile to himself. It was just something that was very her and he held on to that thought. “It’s just-. We do trust you-.”

            “You have a hell of a way to show it.” Ghoul interrupted him angrily and he saw how much effort she was putting in to not let any of her tears fall. The guards she was constantly putting up was painful for him to watch and he could only imagine the lengths she went through to keep them fortified.

            “I can’t stand to think about anything happening to you, okay? Especially if…especially if I could have done something about it and I didn’t stop you.” Sam stammered with his choice of words and he was trying his best to clearly communicate. It was not easy with how bad his heart was pounding from the whole situation. The thought of her just putting herself on line and walking right into that trap, it riled him up.

            “I can take care of myself.” Ghoul said softly and she gently nudged Sam to let go of her arms so he did. Her eyes looked past him and into a void of thought he wish he could hear so he knew what the right words were. It was obvious she was going to at least stand there for a few moments longer and he was going to do his damned best to get her to at least know how much he cared for her wellbeing. At the very least.  

            “No one is denying that, darling.” Her eyes snapped back to his as if calling her darling beckoned her back to him. “I need you to know that I…we have your back.”

            “Yeah?” She sounded skeptical and that was a tiny blow to his ego. Had he really been acting in such a way where she really thought he wasn’t in her corner anymore?

            “Yes, I promise. You made your decision and I know you chose it with everyone’s wellbeing in mind, even if it is not…well…just, I cannot thank you enough for the things you do to keep Corra safe. I am not sure I ever will be able to. But you have got to know that.” He found himself emphasizing the last line and practically begging for her to hear him, truly hear him.

“You are not alone and honestly you havent been at least not since the day I watched you convince a whole gang to just walk out of that Galbank and cut their losses. And yes, the universe has been stretching us to the ends of it all to figure out exactly what these Artifacts are for but Ghoul.” Their eyes were still locked as Sam tried to find the right words he wanted to use and he felt they were truly the only two on this entire ship. He wondered if she felt it too.

“Please…just…stay alive.” He leaned forward towards her. Connecting his forehead with hers, breaking their eye contact but he needed to be close with her. He felt the hitch in her breathing but she didn’t step back this time and instead leaned more into him as their eyes closed and they just felt each other’s physical connection. It was the first sliver of peace they had have between each other for weeks. Sam felt the gentleness of Ghoul’s hand on his beard and when he looked back at her there was now a slow flow of tears falling from her eyes.

“Of course, I will cowboy.” She sniffled softly and the crook of a small smile appeared on her lips. “I couldn’t just let them on this ship Sam not with Corra, not with them finding you or Andreja.” Sam absolutely hated the prospect of Ghoul giving herself up for his welling being yet again. The fears that he had when they were on Neon pained his chest but he held it in and chose not to argue. She was right they needed to trust her. Ghoul was wiping some of the tears off her face and Sam lent a finger to rub one off of her cheek.

“I’m going to be fine. It’s only going to be for a short period of time and I will be back before you can say, ‘are you sure you want to carry that?” She teased him and there was relief on her face that accompanied the smile that was in her eyes. He hesitated before deciding to step back from her and allow her some space. They both took an awkward moment to dust themselves off because they were normally not this physically close and even though there was a strong urge in him to touch her skin again, he held himself.

“Are you going to say goodbye to Corra? What are we going to tell her?” Sam asked directing the conversation away from the awkward silence that filled the storage room they were in. He would rather this awkwardness any day over the tension they had both were originally feeling.

“You, are going to tell her whatever you want because you are her father. I am going to go on Delgado’s ship and make them believe I am just another stupid Rook.” Ghoul said without pausing and Sam crossed his arms not entirely happy with the decision that it was up to him to pick the lie for his daughter. He was a bad liar and if Ghoul didn’t come back what was he going to tell Corra then? He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. But he knew it was a temporary and he also didn’t want Corra to stress over their captain. Ghoul’s hand was now on his shoulder and she gave him a confident smile.

“What is that thing Vladmir says? Catch a smile out there?” Ghoul gripped his shoulder and he laughed at her for trying to impersonate Vlad’s accent.

“Yes. Catch a smile out there.” Sam’s voice was nonchalant but the inside of his body was screaming to not let her go out there alone and onto a ship of wolves.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ghoul had her pirate suit on and the airlock had finally finished stabilizing the air for her to walk through the door to Delgado’s ship. The process was long enough for her to rehearse in her head who she was to be now that she was going to be on Delgado’s ship. She was a Crimson Fleet pirate, she took what she wanted, she lived to fight against the UC and Freestar Rangers, and most of all she did not give a fuck about anything other than her own gains. The airlock door finally opened and there Delgado stood with two other armed men on each side of him. He had a foxy grin on his face as if he expected her to chicken out of this meeting.

“Ah, there she is.” Delgado crooned and he snapped his fingers ordering his guards to relax their position and allow her to walk nearby. “I am extremely interested in these excuses you have for not meeting with your contact as ordered. You are lucky you were the one who helped us find another clue to Kryx’s legacy or else you would be dust by now.”

“I didn’t realize you were being so kind, Del. Next time I will make sure to bring you a fucking bouquet of flowers to show my gratitude.” Ghoul wanted to make it clear that his threats, no matter what they were didn’t disarm her. Delgado looked her up and down and he seemed to be amused at her response. He snapped again but this time his men went to grab both of her arms to restrain her. Immediately Ghoul tried to fight them off because she knew if she just allowed herself to be captured it would be a sign of weak submission in the eyes of this pirate. She used her foot to trip one of the men and it loosened his grip enough for her to slip her arm out of his hold, and then push the back of his helmet into the other guard. The two men collided and before they had the chance to both turn back onto her, she had disarmed them of one of their guns and pointed it directly at them.

“Is this really necessary?” Ghoul hissed at Delgado and he watched her like a hawk ready to swoop in and pluck her eyes out at any moment.

“Perhaps not.” He waved them away and then looked back at his other crew. She wasn’t sure if she saw it correctly or not but he looked pleased with her response. “Undock from that piece of garbage and set coordinates for The Key. We have much to get to in the next few months.”

“Months?” Ghoul snapped suddenly and slightly out of her usual pirate character. Delgado had an eyebrow raised at her suspiciously from her response.

“Do you have somewhere else to be that’s more important than Kryx’s legacy?” He challenged her and the tone in his voice made it very clear this was a dangerous rhetorical question. Ghoul shook her head and tossed the gun to the side trying her best not to think about the fact that she had absolutely no way to communicate with the others about this development. She had left anything that tied her to Constellation on the ship. That included her watch given to her when she first joined that was her primary telecommunications device. What in the fuck was she going to do?  

[mrsbarnesblog]

Stay quiet for me

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: Bucky fucks you while your parents sleep in the next room

Words count: 1.6k

Warnings: modern setting, established relationship, smut, kinda somnophillia?, everything is consensual, quiet sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming.

Author’s note: thanks for everyone’s support. enjoy❤️‍🔥

Your parents had been staying at yours and Bucky's apartment for four days, and even though he loved them, he was kind of missing having you only for him.

Bucky wasn’t the type of person who would show too much affection and feelings in front of other people, but when you were alone, he always had his hands on you. Causally slapping your ass, kissing your neck, or just bending you over the closet flat surface was his favorite thing to do, and, unfortunately, he couldn't do it while your mom or dad were sitting in the same room.

He didn’t want to be dramatic, but it was torture. Obviously, you two didn’t have sex during these days because you were too afraid that your parents might hear, and at first Bucky understood, but with every cute little outfit, every smile towards him, and every innocent touch of your hand, he was losing it. 

And now he had been lying wide awake for the past thirty minutes while you were peacefully sleeping next to him. Your back was pressing firmly against Bucky’s chest; his left hand was under your pillow, and the right one was on your waist. He was just enjoying whatever he could get, inhaling your sweet perfume and rubbing the soft skin of your stomach with his thumb. That was until you, still fully asleep, moved your ass right towards his crotch.

The reaction was instant. Bucky’s body tensed near you; his eyes got closed, and his cock became painfully hard. The only layers that were between you were his boxers and your cotton panties, because you liked to sleep only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts. And the fact that you continued to move in your sleep didn’t help at all.

“Baby…” Bucky whispered into your neck, trying to stop your hips, but it didn't help. “Doll, stop—” That was it; he couldn’t even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

Fuck it, you can be quiet, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then his right hand slipped from your belly right into your underwear. Two fingers ran across your folds, pressing on your clit.

“Bucky…” You would’ve moaned out loud if Bucky hadn’t covered your mouth with his free hand. 

“Sh-h, baby.” He started slowly moving his fingers in circular motions, and you unconsciously moved your legs wider to give your boyfriend better access. 

“We can’t do that right now.” You mumbled against the palm of his hand. “My parents are sleeping in the nest ro—” You didn’t finish your sentence because two fingers suddenly slipped inside of you.

You were already wet enough for Bucky to easily move his hand, brushing your G-spot with every thrust. The rational part of your brain wanted to stop him, but your body was too weak; it was already addicted to Bucky’s touch, and you both knew that.

“Stay quiet for me, baby, ‘kay?” The hot breath on your neck sent goosebumps all over your body, and you couldn’t help but silently nod. 

It felt too good. Maybe you tried being cool about it, but you missed sex with Bucky as much as he did. Yes, it was just four days, but after living together for two years, you already got used to the fact that Bucky was kind of obsessed with you and couldn’t live without touching you at every possible moment.

So right now, when Bucky’s fingers were slowly moving in and out of you while the palm of his hand was so perfectly brushing against your clit, and his hips were moving with the same pace against your ass, you forgot about everything else except the two of you.

Your orgasm was creeping in slowly but heavily. The knot in your stomach was already almost painful; you were so close to your release, pulsing on his fingers. You needed just a few moments, and...

And Bucky completely pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine in despair. His left hand covered your mouth again because it was a little bit too loud for the dead silence in the house. But still, you felt disappointment as the last signs of your building orgasm slipped out of your body, and you were lying there wet, hot, and a little bit mad that your boyfriend didn’t let you finish.

“I told you to shut up, baby. I’m gonna take care of ‘ya. Just wanna feel your tight little pussy cumming on my cock, ‘kay?” You nodded again when Bucky started to kiss the back of your neck and shoulders, at the same time sliding your underwear down your legs. “Lift your leg a little bit, doll.” 

You did as he told you, even though it was hard because your whole body was trembling from excitement and fear of getting caught. It felt like you were just teenagers who were trying to fuck without anyone knowing, and this thought made you even wetter. There were, in fact, chances that everything you did could be heard in the other rooms. 

You were distracted from your thoughts when Bucky took his cock out of the boxers, gave himself a few pumps, and then rubbed it against you to cover himself in your slick. The tip pressed into your entrance, slipping inside easily, until his full length was buried deep into your dripping cunt.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, and you didn’t even notice that you bit the palm of Bucky’s hand in order not to scream out loud. He buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down a little bit.

“Feelin’ so good, sweetheart. Can’t imagine how much I’ve missed this pussy.” His right hand slipped under your thigh and moved your leg higher above your bed. The soft cover completely fell off your body, leaving your hot body exposed to the cold air of the room. It seems like he slipped even deeper, stretching and filling you up so well. 

Bucky started to move slowly in and out of you, trying to make as few noises as possible and thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. You felt so fucking good wrapped around him that it was hard to behave well and not fuck you right into the mattress as he always liked to do. If you two were alone, he would've probably already put you ass up on the bed with your face in the pillows, making you scream his name and moan non-stop.

“M-m-m.” You couldn’t do anything but silently whine into his hand at every movement of his thick cock sliding inside of you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or what to grab to distract yourself from the hot pleasure that was filling your whole body. 

“Don’t– Don’t say a fucking word, baby. You don’t want your parents to find out that you’re just a slut for my cock, right?” Bucky’s deep whisper in your ear made you squeeze around him even harder. “So tight, so wet for me. I swear, you won’t be able to walk for a few days when we finally are alone, you hear me? Already so dumb for my cock, and it’s been almost for days.” His teeth playfully bit your earlobe, before moving lower to suck on the soft skin of your neck.

Your orgasm started to build again, with every movement bringing you closer and closer to the finish line. You wanted to cry or scream—you didn’t even know—but the tears blurred your vision when the hand under your leg moved further and Bucky pressed his fingers on your swollen clit. Your body twitched from the overstimulation, but your boyfriend just pressed harder, so you had no other choice but to let yourself fall into the abyss of pleasure.

“Cum for me, doll. I got ‘ya. Cum on my cock, I feel how you’re squeezing me.” Your head fell backwards, and your back arched as your orgasm filled every corner of your body.

The white noise in your ears and dots behind your closed eyes completely distracted you from the things that Bucky mumbled in your neck while he was trying to reach his own high. With a few last, not-so-steady movements, he grabbed your thigh and bit your neck while his body was trembling, emptying his hot seed deep inside of you. 

“Good girl.” Bucky didn’t stop, gently thrusting into you to prolong your orgasms a little bit. “Good fuckin’ girl, take it all.” You whined when your overstimulated body started trembling under his touch, until Bucky finally stopped moving, still buried in you with his load dripping around his cock. “You did so good, doll.”

“W-what if they heard us?” You whispered into the darkness of your room, which was filled with the musky smell of sex, and you couldn’t deny that the adrenaline in your body felt so good. 

“They’re sleeping, and we should too.” Bucky brought your warm body closer to himself, wrapping his hand over you and not making any movement to pull out. “Wanna stay inside of you for tonight, ‘kay? Love you so much, baby.” 

“Love you too, Buck.” You relaxed under his touch and closed your eyes, drifting back to sleep, finally feeling so full and satisfied. 

You didn’t know if it was true or if your overthinking brain was just playing some bad jokes with you, but it seemed to you that your mom gave you a weird smile when you came down to the kitchen the next morning. 

[chahnniesroom]

to have and to hold

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?” 

Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.

Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.

“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”

“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.

“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”

“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”

“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.” 

“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”

“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”

—

Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.

Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.

Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach. 

When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.

“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.

“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”

Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.

Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball,

some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.

He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.

“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.

Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.

“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”

“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”

Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.

“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”

He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.

 It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.

“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”

By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.

Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.

When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal. 

After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.

Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.

When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.

That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. 

“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”

“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”

“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[myfictionaldreams]

Safety Measures // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Extra reading: Last Hope for background context

A/N: Happy New Year, beautiful readers! I hope everyone is well and safe.

Requested by: @theatrelove3000 thank you so so much for the request and all your support with my writing. As always, you're the best!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, polyamory, ptsd, anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, discussion of past abuse, domestic fluff, dom/sub undertones, cock warming, subspace (kinda), hurt/comfort, new member of the family (yay!), puppy

Words: 4.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Insomnia was an issue you’d never had to deal with before. Not when you have two of the most powerful men of all of the East Coast tiring you out and wrapped around your body to make you feel safe and content.

However, as the seconds ticked by on the clock position on the nightstand next to the bed, you’d found that your body was willing to do anything but sleep. As midnight struck, any hope that had been inkling in your thoughts was diminished. There you were, half sprawled over Steve’s naked chest, his warmth burning through your skin, with Bucky spooning around your back, sandwiching you thoroughly between the two of them, legs crisscrossed between one another.

Even in the safe embrace, your heart continued to palpate painfully in your chest with such powerful thumps you were worried it would wake one of your lovers.

It was always this day. This date. Every year, that sprung fear through your soul, with the memories of your past returning to haunt you. Before Bucky. Before Steve or either of their safety and love, you’d been involved with your family business, reigned by your sadistic brother, Enzo, who was both hateful and abusive, causing you to live a life that was not worth living at all.

For countless years, you’d simply been floating through life, doing anything your brother demanded to benefit his gang. There was no hope, love, or light in your life until the men whose arms you were wrapped tightly in found you, saved you, and showed you what life was about. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment, especially with the violent and bloody end to your brother, but then readjusting to the newfound freedom had taken its toll. The anxiety from your past still haunts you to this very day.

In truth, in the first few years surrounding your brother's death anniversary, you’d celebrated the beginning of your new happiness and life. However, as you grew older and had to live through the dangers of being in the most infamous mafia gang in Brooklyn, your optimistic perspective became somewhat fragile with the realities of becoming close to losing everyone and everything you loved on multiple occasions.

So now, when this dark day loomed over your head once more, your anxiety rose along with the reminder of the horrors that you’d experience throughout your lifetime. Paranoia blossomed into something that was logically not plausible, frightened that somehow, Enzo would return and take you back to the hell hole he once kept you contained within.

These fears had been discussed with both Steve and Bucky on multiple occasions, as well as your friends, who promptly reminded you that nowhere was safer on earth than with all of them. There was 24/7 surveillance within the office and your home, guards patrolling, all armed and trained, as well as having the enhanced bodies of your boyfriends always at your side.

You were safe.

Safe.

And yet, still, there you lay. Wide awake, breaths shallow, trying to remain as quiet as possible so that you may listen to any sounds of intruders walking through your home. It is an impossible feat to do either way due to the pounding of your heartbeat without your ears, the repetitive thump and drum that increased in speed over the minutes. Your palms were becoming clammy where they were resting on Steve’s chest, a faint tremble beginning to throb through your limbs as well. You closed your fingers into a tight fist, attempting to cease the shaking whilst blowing out a long breath as the clock ticked to 00:01 am.

It was no use. You couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t just simply lay there and wait to be attacked or taken.

Carefully as you could, you attempted to climb out of your fierce hold, but due to your fragile state and the firm grip of Steve and Bucky, the movements stirred them both awake.

“Baby? Everything ok? Where are you going?” Steve asked, still half asleep but attempting to rouse himself more by rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Sorry”, you whisper into the darkness, “I just needed to use the bathroom”. The lie trembled from your lips as you clumsily searched the bedroom floor for some clothing to cover your naked body. From the smell of the shirt that you were now tugging over your head, you’d found Bucky’s t-shirt in the dark. As your eyes adjusted to remain in the darkness, you could see Bucky moving closer to Steve on the bed, his face resting on the blonde's chest, replacing where you’d been.

The sight had you smiling for a split second before a rustle of the wind against the windows drew your frightened attention back to reality. Stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, there was a stalling moment where the walls seemed to close around you. Strangling. Suffocation. The fears of your past squeezing closer.

“No”, you chastise yourself in a whisper barely audible as you take a single sweeping step towards the sink, running the cold water to splash it on your face. “Enzo is dead. Stop freaking out, you’re being ridiculous!”. Yes, you were having a conversation with yourself, but only because it was a coping mechanism before you completely lost your mind and had a panic attack.

“Get a hold of yourself!”, you continue the monologue whilst staring at your distressed reflection in the mirror. “You’re safe here in your home”. For some reason, your bottom lip began quivering with the rising emotions and the overwhelming urge to cry. Giving your body a thorough head-to-body shake and angrily wiping away the traitorous tears dripping down your cheeks, you also gave yourself stern talking.

“Either you get yourself together, or you embarrass yourself and wake up Steve and Bucky”. You wouldn’t, not when it was something as irrational as being frightened that your definitely deceased deranged brother would somehow return from the dead to steal you to a life of misery. You couldn’t stomach waking them from their slumber to see the sad puppy eyes they would give you as they told you all the things you already knew. You were safe with them; they’d never let anything bad happen.

Filling your lungs with air, you blew out a long, slow breath until your lungs were completely empty. “Right. One search of the house and back to bed”, you decided, needing to check the surroundings with the hopes it would ease your battle with anxiety and insomnia.

Upon leaving the ensuite bathroom, you were thankfully greeted by the sound of two distinctively soft snores from both men still lying together in bed. Tip-toeing past them and into the hallway, you made sure to keep the lights off with your eyes having adjusted to the darkness as you approached Steve’s office.

There were a few things that you needed from this room. Firstly, to check the security camera feeds from his laptop, showing every angle possible surrounding the house and inside the many rooms of the luxury property. The baseball bat was also hiding beneath the desk. It was one of many weapons stashed throughout your home, carefully placed by both Bucky and his bodyguard Natasha and even though a gun would be a swifter finale for any intruder, there were still more consequences if you were to shoot the firearm accidentally and hit the wrong target whereas, with a bat, you could still keep someone at arm's length and also not fatally wound a friend if they came knocking at the door.

Clutching the smooth bat in both of your trembling hands, you watched the screen, flicking between rooms and areas of the exterior of your home, not spotting a single leaf out of place. In fact, the only emotion that seemed to bloom through your chest was adoration as you stared at the bedroom video feed, noticing that Bucky was now the bigger spoon, wrapped thoroughly around Steve, whose hands were stretched out to your side of the bed, like in his unconscious state, he was still searching for you.

Guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the sight, and closed the laptop with a sigh. You knew this paranoia would fade by the time tomorrow came around. Still, it was completely illogical for you to react rationally today, so with a sigh that echoed around the office, you stood and began to search the property physically.

Holding the bat at arm's length, you peeked around corners first then swung before stepping out. You'd been trained to use all the weapons scattered throughout the house with Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, even with how to strike with a baseball bat effectively.

Every shift of shadows out of the corner of your eyes and every creak of the house naturally settling or knocking with the raging winds outside had your heart racing and senses going into full alert.

One check of the house turned into four full sweeps to ensure no one was there. It was also a slow and thorough check, so by the time you were stepping carefully through the kitchen, glancing out of the back window and into the dark abyss that was your back garden. The creak of footsteps echoed from upstairs; you’d become lost and disorientated on the search, and you had neglected to check the time.

05:03 am.

A sniffle and quiet cough followed the footsteps of the man who had decided to wake earlier than most. In a rush of adrenaline and the need to not be found with a baseball bat in hand like a crazy lady in the dark, you decided to hide the weapon in one of the kitchen cupboards and quickly pretended to be preparing coffee as the sleepy steps wandered down the carpeted stairs.

Placing two cups onto the kitchen counter, you almost held your breath in anticipation for the morning grumbly welcome by whoever had woken first. Steve and Bucky both like to be awake early, much to your usual pleas for them to stay in bed.

However, as the man walked into the kitchen, not a single word was shared as he stepped up close behind you, enveloping your body in a warm and metal arm, wrapping tightly around your waist and pulling you backwards until flush against a naked chest. Stubbled cheeks nuzzled into your neck as lips gently kissed the sensitive skin as you sighed, eyes closing and all tension diminishing into the floor at the feeling of finally being safe.

The two of you swayed on the spot, wrapped in the tight embrace, listening to the water in the coffee pot. One of your hand gripped onto the metal fingers, feeling the smooth material beginning to warm and match the temperature of your skin. The other hand lifted to rest on the back of his head, scratching his buzzed hair, earning a comforting moan from Bucky as he kissed your jaw.

“It’s a rare day when you’re awake before me”, Bucky whispers into the shell of your ear before kissing it. Goosebumps lined your body with the gruff tone of his early morning voice. He didn’t pester you any more about why you were awake at this time, but he did pinch the hem of your shirt. “Is it your plan to always wear my shirts so I must be topless?”

His words pulled a giggle from your lips, shaking your head as you poured the coffee into each cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

The two of you sat at the dining room table, coffee in one hand and in the other you held onto one another, admiring the night turn into the day with dawn breaking over the fences that lined the back garden. It was blissful and a welcomed distraction from the terrors beneath your surface.

Steve eventually joined, groaning about waking up alone as he kissed you, then Bucky on the back of the head. “Who knew the big grown mafia boss could be so needy?” Bucky quipped with a teasing smirk over the rip of his cup before taking another glug of the coffee.

“That’s a lot of sass for someone who will be going without any breakfast if he keeps it up”, Steve grumbles as he looks through the refrigerator to start preparing the three of you breakfast like he did on most mornings. Before Bucky could respond, Steve asked curiously, “Why is there a baseball bat in with the plates?”

Your eyes downcast to stare into your empty cup, shrugging your shoulders at the burning stares of your boyfriends. “I don’t know. Anyway, who wants a fresh coffee?”

Thankfully, nothing more was mentioned regarding the random appearance of the baseball bat as the three of you ate and prepared to head into the office. You were thankful for the distraction working in the gang gave you, especially on a stressful day like today. Although the paranoia and anxiety that had kept you awake still bubbled away beneath the surface.

On the car journey to work, even squished between Steve and Bucky in the back seats, their hands eagerly resting on the naked skin of your thighs, having pushed the dress up to have the contact. Even your bodyguard and best friend Sam, who was driving the vehicle, couldn’t ease the panic that came from every car horn that blared, the dangerously speeding vehicles that passed or just the erratic driving that was expected with other idiots on the road.

Every single disruption had you anticipating that the car you were in would be hit or stopped, and your brother would then arrive and drag you away. Of course, this didn’t happen, and as you came to work, another heavy sigh released from your body as you walked through the extensive security to get to the office.

New shipments of discreetly stolen goods had arrived, which was a welcome distraction for you, checking the quality and organising where and to whom it would be sold. This only lasted for an hour before the coldness began to creep in, and you made excuses to return to Steve and Bucky back in the office.

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Bucky reminds you carefully whilst pulling your chair closer to his. You couldn’t meet his intense stare as you shifted your body under his awaiting arm so you were cuddled close to his side.

“Yep”, you respond casually, leaning into his warmth.

Bucky’s face lowered to your ear as he stroked his fingers down your arm. “And you also know you’re safe with me. With Steve. In this building or home. I’d do anything to keep you safe, Doll”.

You smile politely at him, trying to ignore the guilt that, for some reason, passed over you as you reached to take his hand that was draped over your shoulders. “I know”.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bbcky checking his phone for the 15th time in an hour. Not that you’d been counting.

Finally, he seemed to receive the notification he’d been waiting for as he suddenly sprung up from his seat, pulling his leather jacket swiftly.

A frown settled over your features as you sat forward, “where are you going?”

Bucky glanced towards Steve first before addressing your question. “I’ve just got some errands to run, nothing special. I won’t be long, Sweetheart”.

He was leaving you. On a day when you needed him most so that you felt safe, he for some reason had to go.

You stood abruptly, pushing back your chair and taking urgent steps towards him whilst nervously playing with your fingers. “You’re going to leave me on my own!”

“Who am I? The milkman?” Sam joked from where he was standing near the door, and you instantly regretted the words, having not meant them that way. What’s worse is that Steve muttered something under his breath from his desk and now you were riddled with more guilt as Bucky’s sad eyes turned to you, his hands resting heavily on your shoulders.

“I won’t be long, and maybe you’ll get a surprise later.” He tried to bring a smile to your lips, but it was worthless as you were caught between staring at Sam and Steve, trying to find the words to apologise. Bucky breathed heavily through his nose at seeing you distraught, but then his phone pinged again, so with one last kiss to your temple, he made his way to the exit.

Turning to Sam whilst awkwardly rubbing your cheek to ease the burning of embarrassment under your skin, you attempted to apologise, but Steve cut off your sentence. “I’m sorr-”.

“Baby, come here”.

Turning towards the comforting voice, you saw that Steve’s full attention was now on you. He’d moved his seat away from his desk and opened his arm, a clear sign for you to approach, which you did with rushed steps before climbing into his warm, sturdy lap. Your knees rested on either side of his thighs as your fingers caded through the curling blonde hair at the nape of his neck which you were quick to bury your face into, breathing in his calming cologne.

“I’m sorry about the comment; I didn’t mean it like that. I know I’m not alone. My head is just all over the place and-”.

“Shh, I know, baby, you don’t need to explain yourself. I know you’d rather us both be around for you today”. There it was. The one small mention and reference made by someone else that this was a day that you hated. It’s not that it needed to be spoken about as it had been clear that both of your boyfriends had been trying their hardest to be there for you today by being at your side as much as possible, constantly checking in with your emotions and making sure you ate and drank enough.

But Steve saying it out loud seemed to make it all the more real, so as you clung to him with more desperation, his arms did just the same until it felt as if there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t currently being touched by his giant frame.

“I love you, Steve, so much”, you plead to him in a tired daze, finally feeling somewhat safe now that you were crowded into his body.

“I’d do anything for you, baby girl, you know that. I love you too. Try and get some sleep; it’ll make the day go faster”.

You wanted to and knew you could if you’d let your eyes drop close, but something still wasn’t sitting right like an itch that needed to be scratched.

“Could I please make one request… sir?” you say, nerves beginning to flicker through your chest at the intimacy of the request, already starting to switch into the role of the submissive mind, especially after the fragile state you’d been in all day.

Steve seemed to straighten his posture at using the name, and his lips kissed the top of your head a few times before he responded, “Anything”.

Lifting your head away from his neck and gazing into the endlessly intense blue eyes that always looked so kindly down at you, you asked, “Please can we touch everywhere? I just want to sit and be close”.

Steve tried not to smile at the innocence and the way you couldn’t even say the words, ‘Please can I cock warm you?’ which he knew was what you were asking. Reaching between your bodies, he began to undo his belt and zipper, “You know you don’t need to ask, Sweetheart. I want you to feel comfortable”.

You could never explain to someone why you loved the thought of cock warming so much. It seemed to settle both your nerves and put you into a relaxing state. Not at all times, though. Half the time, it would just turn you into a horny, wet mess that ended with you riding the cock until at least three orgasms. But other times, such as now, you just needed to be stretched and feel as close to Steve as possible.

Lifting higher onto your knees, you moved aside your underwear and lifted the front of your dress as you manoeuvred yourself to accommodate the toe-curling length that was Steve Rogers. Through your groaning sigh, you couldn’t hear Steve’s matching noise as he made sure you were comfortable with a steading arm around your hips before shuffling his seat closer to the desk and continuing with his work and talking to Sam about an email he’d just received.

You were asleep before hearing the end of the email being read out. Your head is resting on his shoulder, hands loosely holding onto the material of his crisp navy blue shirt. You were warm, full and safe.

Hours later, as the sun began to set and the day passed, you were still drowsy, much more relaxed than you had been in the morning. You’d wake up to Steve packing his belongings and Sam saying he’d warm the car for you and Steve.

As you gathered your disorientated thoughts and tried to sit up, you noticed that Steve was very much still thoroughly hard inside of your soaked cunt. Silently, you thanked whatever super serum had been injected into him during his time in the army. You clenched at the realisation, and Steve hummed in contentment at realising you were waking up.

“Let’s get you home. Bucky’s waiting there for us”,  Steve informed quietly whilst cupping your cheek tenderly.

With the position you’d been sitting in, your legs were sore and tense, but Steve was more than happy to carry you down, even with his cock still inside. However, with the movements of his steps, it caused his length to ease in and out of your already sensitive cunt that by the time you’d made it to the car, you were clinging desperately to his shoulders as an orgasm rushed through you, pulsing between your legs.

Steve’s knees nearly buckled as he rested your frame against the side of the car, his face dropping to your neck as he breathed you in deeply. Your cunt continued to clench around his cock until he, too, joined you in euphoria with a deep grunt and a snap of his hips; warmth flooded your hole and began dripping out and onto the floor. Neither of you or his employees batted an eyelid as both of you came. 

Once in the car, you were so distracted with cleaning each other up that the idiots in other vehicles that had panicked you on the way in, didn’t remotely phase you.

Wishing Sam a good night, you and Steve walked up to your front door, hand in hand. Steve opened the front door for you, letting you walk into the living room first, where you abruptly stopped, causing the blonde to nearly knock into you.

“I promise I tried to stop him, but he’s a feral little beast!” Bucky exclaimed from where he sat on the floor, surrounded by something that could only be described as chaos.

It seemed all of the decorative pillows had been utterly destroyed as the contents of the fluff covered all of the surfaces. Not only this, but there were half-eaten shoes, and the corners of the couches and coffee table seemed to have tiny bite marks gnawed into them.

“Bucky?! What did you do?” You couldn’t even comprehend where the mess began and ended as you looked at your dishevelled boyfriend sitting on the floor. Well, he was more lying down, reaching beneath one of the couches as he began to sit up and plastered a wide, toothy grin towards you.

“Surprise!” Bucky shouts with exhausted joy as Steve sighs with a shaky laugh from behind you.

“Surprise? What kind of a surprise is my home being destroyed?” you say, gobsmacked, staring longingly at your favourite cushions ripped to shreds.

As Bucky opened his mouth to explain, a tiny yap sounded from beneath the furniture where he’d just been reaching, and suddenly, a bundle of black fur was pounding for your ankles. It took you a second to drop to your knees and gasp, reaching for the puppy.

“Careful! His teeth are viscous”, Bucky warns, trying to reach forward to grab the animal, but you beat him to it and pull the pup into your lap.

“Oh my god, look at you! Aren’t you just the most beautiful little thing! Was it you that destroyed my lovely cushions? It was, wasn’t it? That’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you for everything. You're just so damn cute!” you couldn’t help but talk in a childishly high voice as you spoke to the adorable little puppy.

Thankfully, he didn’t bite you with his tiny sharp teeth and instead rolled onto his back on your legs, his paws resting in the air as he waited for a belly rub you happily gave him with carefully placed head kisses.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting a new guard dog! And what happened to the rule of not letting them into the house?” you asked Bucky as you continued to pet the pup.

Steve squatted down next to you, reaching to stroke the puppy behind his ears but then quickly retreating as the tiny sharp teeth nearly nipped his fingers. “He’s not going to be a guard dog; he’s going to be your dog”.

Your head spun with how fast you looked between your boyfriends as you screamed, “What?!”

“Yep! He’s all yours. He’s a Rottweiler and is eight weeks old. They’re known to be a protective breed and great guard dogs, so we will have him properly trained a couple of times a week for this, but we also want him to be yours”. As Bucky explained he knelt closer which earned the attention of your new puppy who watched him closely but continued to lick your fingers in between as you scratched the top of his head.

Steve rested a firm hand on your lower back as he continued, “We know how difficult today is, even with our reassurance that you are safe from Enzo”. Even just hearing his name, your whole body tightens and locks, almost forgetting to breathe until a certain puppy begins to wiggle and try and jump up your body to attempt to lick your face, having noticed the change in demeanour. “We wanted there to be someone around for you all the time, just with the chance that you could still feel safe if Bucky or I weren’t by your side. So, we are hoping this little rascal will be able to do this”, Steve says playfully, stroking along the puppy's back but quickly withdrawing when he nearly nipped again.

“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin with telling you how amazing this gift is”, you say brightly, glancing between the two men you loved most in the world.

“Don’t thank us; it’s the least we could do”, Steve mutters whilst leaning in to kiss your cheek and then standing up, beginning to grab handfuls of fluff from all the surfaces with an attempt at cleaning up the mess.

“I just want you to be happy”, Bucky whispers whilst kissing your other cheek, but then his gaze moves to the puppy, and a line forms between his brows as he frowns. “There will be some ground rules, though. No dog on the couch or in bed. We need boundaries”.

You nod your head in understanding but lean closer to whisper to the pup loud enough that Steve and Bucky could still hear. “Don’t listen to the grumpy old man. You can stay wherever you’d like!”

Bucky sighs whilst rolling his eyes and begins to help Steve with cleaning.

The three of you were sat in front of the TV watching a late-night film. The four of you were sitting on the couch as the puppy was resting in your lap, exhausted from all the playing you’d been doing and now resting as you tried to think of a name for the little guy.

“What about Winchester? That’s a good dog name, right?” you ask the boys, but mostly the dog, hoping he would react to one of the suggestions, but he hasn’t succeeded so far. You pondered some more whilst petting his little black ears. “Oh, what about Sargeant?! No… what about Rogers? No…”. You gave up trying to think of a name off the top of your head and began to scroll for suggestions online.

“Max? Brutus? Thor? Um, nope, these aren’t good. Chase? Ari? Bullet? Dodger? Bli-” Your suggestions stop as the puppy’s head tilts to look at you, seeming more awake. “What is it? Is it one of the names? Ari?” No response, “Bullet?” still no response. “Dodger?” his precious little tail began to wag as he yapped.

“Dodger? You like that name?” he barked again, attempting to climb higher up your body to lick your face as you laughed fondly.

“Dodger it is”, Steve announced from your side with a smile.

[verstarppen]

summary; there's little time between fast cars and spaceships, but you make it work

pairing; lando norris x fem! star wars actress! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; first post on this acc, if you see a typo or a mistake no you don't shhh; the ahsoka show is rotting my brain but so is f1 so i spat this out im sorry it will happen again part 2 is on the way

[ series masterlist ]

liked by markhamill, danielricciardo, therealkateesackhoff and 613,229 others

yndeathtrooper and that's a wrap! i'm so thankful for the amazing opportunity to spend another season in a sweaty helmet as a supporting character with a tiny subplot! tune in next year to see me return in the not-jedi show as background mandalorian #4! 🫶

view all 24,927 comments

yndeathtrooper @ davefiloni i'm joking please don't fire me

pascalispunk sweaty helmets, tell me about it

yndeathtrooper YOU HAVE BODY DOUBLES

lonelyboba best season so far

ahsokawife only one grogu pic? unfollowed

generalkenobi3 CANT WAIT TO SEE AHSOKA

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, yukitsunoda0511 and 21,001 others

daniel3.jpg We're so back

view all 6,012 comments

landonorris can't believe i got ditched for this shit

daniel3.jpg You refused to get cultured. landonorris yeah because it's boring daniel3.jpg I can name several toddlers with longer attention spans than you.

liked by f1, mclaren, danielricciardo, landonorris and 835,097 others

yndeathtrooper gave my manager a heart attack, lost pedro pascal in a crowd like a mother with her 3 year old, and got accused of coorporate espionage! what did you do today?

view all 356,371 comments

danielricciardo I sensed you got lost in the force

yndeathtrooper I'M SORRY again i swear i didn't see anything i can possibly explain, and thank you guys for showing me where i was supposed to go :) landonorris Anytime

bellanorris MCLAREN SWEEP DANNY FINALLY WON

urmomlol when worlds collide

patiencesainz danny gets to meet his celebrity crush god when is it my turn

liked by maxverstappen1, yndeathtrooper, landonorris and 1,408,350 others

danielricciardo He INSISTED on watching the Mandalorian to "see what it's all about". Unbelievable.

view all 650,006 comments

yndeathtrooper boosting the ratings i see

landonorris it's still boring but i'm tolerating it danielricciardo Take that back rn. landonorris no. danielricciardo Then I guess I have no choice but to tell everyone how much you "aww" over Grogu. landonorris defamation. i've done no such thing.

troubletauri down astronomical

chisslover me too lando me too

liked by mclaren, landonorris, danielricciardo and 210,484 others

yndeathtrooper grogu likes @ mclaren , he told me himself

view all 91,861 comments

danielricciardo I'm his favorite driver

yndeathtrooper sure grandpa let's get you back to bed

landonorris taste

danielricciardo Booooooo

gonestappen are... are they flirting

sugarussell WHAT IS GOING ON

dannyavocado their friendship is so funny

percivaleclair "friendship" ok

super_max sanest f1 soft launch

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and 967,150 others

yndeathtrooper photo dump :)

view all 698,546 comments

ferraritractor NAHHH SHE REALLY TRIED TO SNEAK LANDO AT THE END

mercedesluv what level of delusion are they on thinking this is slick

schumicker ao3 24k strangers to lovers celebrity au

cadbanemvp "don't be suspicious"

landonorris hello there

yndeathtrooper general norris

maxverstappen1 Thank you for babysitting him!

yndeathtrooper anytime, mr world champion :) landonorris ew

holoahsoka the way nobody is talking about the set photo is sending me 😭

revanite who's the guy

stappenlover lando norris tatooinerat god this is the weirdest crossover these fandoms clashing is like oil and water

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

[grison-in-space]

also, hot take, but speaking as someone who has volunteered to work on big projects tackling difficult issues out of community love in the past, I am just. is the otw probably a really toxic place to volunteer and work right now? Sure is, probably! Is public pressure that doesn't come with an influx of new people volunteering to do the messy work of figuring out what a better policy is, how to create anti harassment safeguards, and otherwise fixing the problem actually useful? Fuck no it is definitely not!

like I will be 1000% honest, I have in fact been asked personally to volunteer to help a community transition on a much smaller scale to fix problems of this magnitude to encourage a much smaller scale organization to work and perform a community service. and I took that job with a strong sense of "ye gods this is going to suck and I'm going to piss people off by doing things wildly imperfectly, but if I don't help provide my work it might not get done because this is fucking hard and no one is paying."

and I did it and I stopped as quickly as humanly possible. now that shit is someone else's volunteer problem and I'm delighted, because let us be real I'm a disabled middle aged lady with a day job and I don't have full time professional effort to dedicate to stuff I do in my spare time for free. that's one of the fun things about disability actually, it constricts the total store of focused labor hours available to me to put in, especially on landmine topics like extending the scope of my archiving projects to create a farsighted anti harassment policy that can't be weaponized.

so like. the work needs doing. anything anyone does is going to be imperfect and problematic and bad, because it is being done on an almost purely volunteer basis by people who are for whatever reason willing to donate high level professional skills and labor for free and don't need to do stuff for actual money and support instead. like sure the budget is enormous for servers but none of that goes to labor.

Outrage is going to do jack shit unless people volunteer to roll up their sleeves and start doing the work to donate a better policy, or better management. This shit is fucking difficult, exhausting, and impossible to do without pissing people off. I am damn sure not getting involved right now, and that's why I have not been commenting. Public pressure is not going to do jack shit if it didn't come with support.

If this is an issue that is important to you, you have to back up your outrage with resources. Since the AO3 does not exchange money for labor, that means showing up to offer to help build something different. as I said, I am a middle aged disabled lady who finds fandom and archive repositories to be important and helpful and I don't have any labor left to donate, so I have been reserving comment on complaint. If this is a thing that matters to you, congratulations! Public pressure is only useful insofar as it can be used to make the org let you help. It's up to you to actually help.

[loveliestdagger]

ask (bucky barnes x f!reader)

read it on ao3 | go back to the masterlist

summary: when, after a mission, the reader needs Bucky's help tending to her wounds.

word count: 1227

warnings: blood and injury, stab wound

a/n: feedback is always appreciated, especially since i'm thinking about writing another chapter. anyways...enjoy!!!

I hold onto the doorframe, putting as little weight on my leg as possible. the open wound stings, deepening into consistent pain jolting up the thigh and reverbing in my brain. I feel the blood dripping down my freshly washed body.

The nightgown is purposefully too short, showing the extent and severity of the cut. It starts mid thigh trailing down almost to the knee. It's deep too. Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, boots undone. His hair clings to his forehead with the same sweat that makes his bare chest glisten just as hard as his metal arm. If I didn't feel like dying I'd drool.

He takes note of my presence as soon as I open the bathroom door, straightening up. I can feel his eyes on me, burning in the raw flesh of my thigh. I register a millisecond of surprise and then his eyes raise to meet mine.

I don’t move. I should. I swallow in dry, returning his stare. My vision blurs and the hand that isn’t supporting me tremors uncontrollably – the only visible sign of my distress. He gets up, walking close enough that I can distinguish his eyes through the haziness. 

Sam had once joked every time I got injured I acted like a wounded animal. Unwilling to accept help, let alone ask for it. Running away to lick my wounds and coming back when everything is fine. 

Bucky stands in front of me, his lips pressed into a line. He analises me, knowing me too well already. "You need me to stitch it up." 

It’s not a question or a statement. It's the iteration of what I need to say but can’t. All I can muster is to not avoid his gaze, as my face burns and my knees falter.

Still, my eyes avoid his when I speak.

"I wouldn't ask if I-"

"You haven't." 

I let out a heavy breath, frustration intensifying the hot flashes surging through me as I retreat back into the bathroom. I'm going to bleed to death because I can’t bring myself to ask for help. Real mature. But his hand grasps mine, our fingers bruising almost intertwining before he settles his grip firmly on my wrist. When I decide to look back at him his gaze has softened.

"Ask." It’s a quiet, breathy sound. I’m tired and hurt and he's leaning into me, his warmth far more comforting than — could me. And I find myself holding onto his heart, the steady beating underneath my fingers. He draws circles on the inside of my wrist. The other hand rises to cup my cheek and I lean into it, shuddering breaths as his skin makes contact with mine. "Talk to me."

I crumble like a statue made to wait too long. 

"It hurts." I croak through the lump in my throat. It’s not what he wants me to say but it’s the truth. It’s the most sincere I’ve been in a while.

"I know baby." He says softly in my ear while his fingers brush the ends of my hair.

"I need help." I mutter.

"Then let’s get you some help." He guides me back inside the bathroom, his hand resting on the small of my back. The tactical gear is in a pile on the corner, along with blood soaked undergarments. Even the tiles underneath have a reddish hue to them, messily wiped in a pained haze. 

He motions for me to sit on the edge of the bathtub, leaving the room only when he’s sure I won't fall over. The lights are too bright and I'm suddenly very cold. When he comes back, with a medical kit that had to have taken up half of his bag, I’m gripping the edges of the tub.

He kneels in front of me, laying out his supplies. I watch him work, slowly, methodically and when he gazes back at me he looks unsure. His thumb trails the extent of the wound, gliding in the blood that keeps on pouring out and he watches me. His eyes roam my face in search of something. Then he looks at my thigh again, eyebrows knitted together as I hold my breath. He's looking for pain. And I'm sure I look pained. The edges of the wound are jagged and I can feel where the knife nicked the bone. It’s a dull ache, deep inside the leg. Incomparable with the searing pain of the cut itself which I feel burning at the edges like it's trying to knit itself back together.

"Just do it." I exhale. It’s when I notice I'm panting, my body so heavy I have to make a conscious effort to sit upright.

"I'll make it quick, I promise." His eyes crease with a sympathetic smile. His hand sliding to massage my calf. I manage a nod, my eyes threatening to close. 

I can’t resist the urge to lean over him, a content sigh escaping my lips as my forehead meets his bare shoulder and rests there. I register the sharp sting of disinfectant. Then I feel the pressure of his fingers on the edges of the cut, clenching my teeth as he pinches the skin together and whimpering when he draws the needle through it. And he does it again. And again.

"Are you still with me?" he calls out after a while. I somewhat nod, not feeling the strength to lift my head. "We’re almost done. Just a little bit longer, okay?"

"I feel awful." I confess, just as he drags a wet towel softly across the stitches. 

"You lost a lot of blood. I’m actually surprised you’re holding out so well."

"What can I say? I’m a natural." 

"I'd prefer it if you weren’t a natural at getting stabbed." I feel scolded, as he finishes wrapping my leg, the pressure bringing immediate relief. 

He grabs my shoulders, straightening me up. He brushes damp hair out of my face, like it’s a curtain separating him from gazing at the view, looking so intently into my eyes I think he might actually get a glimpse into my soul. 

"You did good." And there’s his eyes, and his mouth. And I'm sure I will say something but I can't hear myself. I can’t think. And his eyes. His eyes, shiny and caring, full of such honesty and tenderness I don’t know if my knees are weak for him or because of blood loss. And I don’t care because he carries me and lays me on the bed. He covers me and his fingers stroke my cheek as he asks if I’m okay.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning in my direction I feverishly think he might kiss me. I wonder if he wants to. I’m sure I would like it, he seems like a good kisser. With his pretty pink lips and his soft skin.

"I have to check in with Nat." He says hesitantly, his hand still on my face. "I'll check on you when I get back."

" I should go too" I squirm, trying to free myself from the bedsheets. Having a drink at some dirty bar with Natasha sounds nice for once. And I have a lot to debrief

He pushes me back down. "You’ve done enough for today."

I try again and I’m met with the same fate. 

"Sleep."

read bonus chapter | read chapter 2

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

next chapter

[vettelsvee]

YOU WROTE A SONG ABOUT ME? | Oscar Piastri

f1 one shots masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

oscar piastri x singer!reader

requested by anon: x singer!reader, maybe Oscar and his family going to her show and she sings a song about him

word count: 2402

warnings: none of them! use of y/n and y/l/n

posible part 2 if you like it and ask for it!

you can send your one shots requests here!

Oscar was nervous. Very, in fact.

It wasn't the first time he attended a concert of Y/N, his girlfriend, but every time he did he ended up getting more nervous than he should.

Perhaps the fact that today was his twenty-third birthday and he hadn't received any kind of congratulations from her had a lot to do with it.

The Australian took a deep breath and continued on, trying to catch up with his sisters and parents as quickly as possible, who had barely noticed that the boy had fallen behind, immersed in his thoughts.

Nicole quickly turned around, going to where her son was as calmly as she could, and above all making sure not to do or say anything she would regret, especially not something that would ruin the surprise her daughter-in-law had been keeping so well.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Oscar slightly startled as he felt his mother's hand on his shoulder, even letting out a small scream that startled the woman.

"Yes, of course!" the boy hurried to say, trying to calm down. "Just... I'm a little nervous, but that's all, really."

Despite the Australian's efforts to sound as calm as possible, it was in vain. Nicole could see his anxiety in his gaze and, above all, in his gestures. His hands were barely still, and every time she tried to walk beside him, he ended up putting a little more distance between them.

"I'm your mother, Oscar, you know I can catch any lie like I've done so many times before. Why are you so nervous?"

He sighed. He didn't want to share his concern, especially when they were heading to see the main reason of it.

"Well..." he tried to find the right words, finding it quite difficult. "It's just that I haven't received any message from Y/N today. Today, of all days, you know? On my birthday."

"Oh, what a shame..." the woman replied, feigning surprise. "She must have forgotten or had some problem. Have you talked to her?"

Was she really asking him that? He just told her he hadn't received any message from the brunette...

"Yes, but she hasn't replied."

"Don't worry! I'm sure there's a reason for it," assured the Piastri matriarch. "Don't let this ruin your day. If that girl doesn't call you as soon as it strikes twelve, I promise she'll have to deal with me."

"Mom..."

"No mom, Oscar," she scolded him in an ironic tone, making him laugh. "Now try to enjoy her concert and have a good time with us, okay?"

The brown-haired young man nodded, grateful for his mother's support, and continued on his way to the Rod Laver Arena, now a bit happier than before.

After passing through security checks and receiving the VIP accreditations reserved for the Piastri family, and the occasional stops for the pilot to take some photos and sign autographs with fans who recognized him, which were quite a few, they made their way to their reserved spot, located in the lower side stands just a few meters from the main stage.

"Wow, I didn't know you were so famous to have so many people following you," joked his father, making his sisters laugh.

"You should take a break!" shouted his mother, hugging him and making his cheeks turn red. "You're at your girlfriend's concert, not at one of your stupid races."

"They're the ones who make me who I am, Mom. Besides, I'm a public figure," added the brown-eyed one. "I can't ignore them and act like nothing, you know? It's not that easy."

Oscar said that, but he still felt uneasy. As he looked at his family, already occupying their seats as there was still about half an hour before the concert started, the need to see his girlfriend or at least hear some news about her was taking over him more and more.

"Mom, I'm going to see if I can find out anything about Y/N," he said impulsively, interrupting himself with his own words. "I'll be right back."

Nicole looked at him with surprise, telling him no, to wait there, and they would see what to do after the concert. But the young man had already gained some momentum and was navigating through everyone in his way around the stands, seats, stairs, and multiple corridors until he reached the place where, supposedly, his girl was.

Once he reached the supposed dressing room, a perfectly uniformed black security guard, with a completely serious expression and crossed arms, stood in front of the door.

"Um... I'm Oscar," he greeted with a wave, trying to curve his lips without trembling. "I'm Y/N’s boyfriend," he timidly pointed to the door behind him with his hand. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Piastri, but Y/N has agreed that there are no visitors before the concert today," the man responded firmly, still looking at Oscar seriously and shaking his head.

"It's just a moment. I want to wish her good luck before she goes on stage," he insisted, hoping the guard might make an exception.

"I'm sorry, sir. Rules are rules, and if the young lady said no, then it's no. I can't make any exceptions, even for you."

The Australian thanked the unfriendly man with a slight nod and, feeling defeated, made his way back to where his family was. As soon as he arrived, he had his sisters pestering him:

"Did you see Y/N? Did she say anything to you? Did she leave you wanting something, and that's why you look so depressed now?"

The eldest sister's insistence was making him feel even worse than he already did; having the other two join in the sudden conversation with curious faces and even more unsettling questions made him want to leave the place.

The young man simply remained silent. He sat in his seat and kept his gaze fixed on the stage, waiting for the lights to go out and the concert to begin.

It was a matter of the singer stepping onto the stage for the crowd to rise to their feet, applauding and chanting her name, shouting compliments and praises of all kinds.

"Good evening, Melbourne!" exclaimed Y/N, who was on a platform that had risen from the bottom of the stage. "I hope you all have a great time with me tonight because I assure you that today will be full of surprises!"

Nicole Piastri got up from her seat, as did the rest of the family, and told Oscar to do the same. He refused, remaining seated with his arms crossed, but unable to stop a smile from appearing on his lips.

He might be upset with his girlfriend's behavior for who knows what reason, but it was impossible for him not to look away from her while she danced, sang, and interacted with the audience.

It was too difficult for him not to feel proud of her and everything she had achieved.

The show continued as Oscar knew it would, having memorized it from the numerous times he had not only attended various concerts of his girlfriend's tour around the world but also from the countless rehearsals he had accompanied her to.

However, Piastri did not expect that suddenly the lights would go out and an orange glow would begin to emerge everywhere, especially illuminating the stage.

Y/N appeared again, now wearing an orange bodysuit with perfectly placed blue tones that accentuated her figure.

"Do you know what day’s today?" asked the brunette, looking with wide eyes at the audience.

"April 6th!"

She nodded, a playful smile forming on her lips more and more as she was about to reveal, and trying not to turn her head towards where her boyfriend was, whom she had deliberately avoided all day and who, possibly, would tell her to screw off after all the ghosting she had done to him on his birthday.

"And, by any chance... do you know what happens today?"

There were a variety of responses. A large part of them answered that it was Oscar's birthday, her partner's. Others were somewhat wild, as if she was about to reveal that the couple was expecting a baby, or that the young woman was going to announce her retirement from the stage after her very short musical career.

"No, it's none of that," the Australian ended up saying. "I am pleased to announce that today, here, right now, I am going to debut my new single, 'Throttle Hearts'!"

The stadium erupted in cheers and applause once again. No one, not even Oscar, expected this revelation from the girl, so it was completely normal for people to ask her to sing the song already.

Y/N, however, asked them for a moment with her hand.

Quickly, she ran to her cell phone and, secluded in a small corner of the stage, tried to make sure that the camera recording to broadcast her image on the large screens captured nothing.

At that very moment, Oscar's phone vibrated in his pocket with a notification from the same girl who was on stage:

"Happy birthday, my love! I'm so sorry for ghosting you all day, but I hope it was worth it. If you understand any references in the song, it's normal bc it's based on our story. I hope this is the best gift you can receive, at least for now, in your life. I can't wait to get off stage and give you the biggest hug in the world <3"

And there was Y/N, making eye contact with him, having a minimal interaction with her boyfriend for the first time all day. The girl had her arm raised, waving enthusiastically and making heart gestures with both hands that ended sooner than expected as she went to the piano to play the first chords of the song.

Oscar found himself trying to hide some tears, which were forming in his eyes not only as Y/N’s voice adjusted to the melody but throughout the rest of the concert.

The only thing the boy could reply to that message was whether she had really written a song about him, receiving as a response during a break between songs a large number of heart shaped emojis.

When the show came to an end and the singer disappeared beneath the stage, the Piastri family quickly grabbed their belongings to leave the venue and go to where the boy's girlfriend was. The same security guard who had previously denied him access to see the singer to the Formula 1 driver was now standing next to them, telling them to follow him.

Obviously, they didn't hesitate to say yes and followed his steps to the young woman's dressing room, who allowed her boyfriend's family to enter, welcoming them with a radiant smile and hugs that had been delayed all day.

The only thing the young couple did as words were exchanged was to look at each other, shy to show their love in front of others, as it had always been with them.

"I think we should leave the lovebirds alone for a while," Nicole began as she headed towards the exit of the room. "Don't take too long, the reservation for dinner at Oscar's favorite restaurant is at ten fifteen, and you know we take quite a while to get there."

Both of them thanked her shyly, unsure of what to do or say beyond being unable to stop smiling.

When they were alone, facing each other, they didn't know what they should say to each other. Oscar Piastri didn't know if he should reproach his girlfriend for not speaking to him all day despite preparing a surprise for him. Y/N Y/L/N was aware that perhaps she should apologize for not having done things quite right and for keeping the brown-haired boy on edge by maintaining some sort of no-contact for the past 24 hours.

Finally, it was the McLaren driver who broke the not-so-uncomfortable silence:

"Y/N, that song..." He was at a loss for words. He didn't know what else to say other than that he had loved it.

The girl smiled shyly, grateful not only that he had liked the composition she had kept to herself for the past seven months, but also for seeming to have understood.

"I've been wanting to sing it to you for a long time, but I didn't know if you’d like it," the young woman admitted. "It has had a couple of important modifications since the first draft, and since the record label wasn't cooperating much when I wanted to release it initially, I thought it would be a good birthday gift for you," she explained. "Hey, and I'm sorry if this whole game of ignoring you all day has offended you. I feel really bad, and the last thing I want is..."

"Shut up, silly!" Oscar interrupted her, approaching her to wrap her in his arm and give her a tender kiss on the forehead. "At first, I thought you wanted to break up with me, but then seeing how my mom was acting, that gorilla you have as a bodyguard denying me access, and above all you ignoring me all day..."

"I'm good at keeping secrets, and I'm absolutely in love with you, Oscar Piastri," Y/N declared, mock-offended. "Do you really think I would ignore you all day?"

"Not a chance. I know there's a good intention behind everything you do," agreed the Australian, earning himself a hug and a kiss on the lips from his girlfriend. "Did you know that I'm also good at keeping secrets?"

"Oh, really? And are you absolutely in love with me like I am with you, Piastri?"

Oscar grinned mischievously, an idea starting to appear in his mind like a flash that was making more and more sense.

Obviously, the driver was a tad resentful, and the girl wasn't going to get away with it no matter how good the intention was behind Throttle Hearts and its surprise presentation.

Now, Oscar had to prepare a surprise for the girl's twenty-second birthday that would match, or even surpass, the one she had prepared for him.

"I don't know," he shrugged, laughing more and more emphatically and perhaps frustrating his girlfriend, "I guess now you'll have to wait for your birthday to find out."

[takes1]

asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this was indulgent for me. asahi is def a favorite of mine. idk where the kuroo's little sister idea really stems from, but it just came to me and worked with my prompt (mostly adding conflict/humor). thirsty lead-up to some pay-off smut

warnings. asahi thirst. eventual smut. minors DNI info. lite!nsfw to future smut / gentle giant!asahi / asahi appreciation / size kink / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / 860 words / multi-part smut so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more here. part two here. more links. masterlist. my ao3. requests/submissions: open

Great, hulking muscles slammed a ferocious serve through the other side of the court. An easy point for his team.

Screams of adoration from Karasuno supporters and his own teammates echoed in your ears: Asahi.

Yeah, that was a name you could get used to screaming.

Your jaw was on the floor. Your trembly hands seized the railing to keep your wobbly body barely upright. The sigh you gave felt like it lasted minutes, so when you went to gasp for more air, it sounded like a demented groan.

"I need him biblically," You heard yourself declare.

It may have been the show of force, but there was something about a kind face attached to that weapon of a body that set your senses on fire. You were already crafting plans to seduce him after the game, making fictional arrangements to ensure you could be under him in the shortest wait time possible.

"What?" Your friend laughed at you, a hand on your shoulder to jerk you back to reality.

You were on the opposite side of the court, after all. What you could see of him was through the net.

That was not your team by any means- you were connected to the one in front of you by blood.

"Number 3," You sighed, leaning against the railing. Maybe you'd fall into the court and he could catch you in his big arms. Then, you'd start making out and--

"Yaku??" She laughed.

"No!" You made a disgusted sound, "God, not-- Karasuno number three!"

Her laughter only made you feel like talking to him was as realistic as Nekoma winning right now. With a 7-point difference, it was pretty self-explanatory.

"Yaku's not that bad," She grinned at your eyes rolling all the way back into your skull, "Hey! You've gotta calm down."

Your head was on your arms, crumpled against the railing. There was no chance in Hell you'd let this opportunity slip from your fingers.

The energy pumping through you was straight-up biological.

It was the only explanation for a need that went this deep, so strong that it carried your legs down the stands and into the hallway behind the gymnasium after the game was over.

This deranged arousal only felt out of place when your brother stopped you from moving further down, to where Karasuno was packing their gear up.

"Woahwoahwoah," Kuroo narrowed his eyes at you and spun you around by your shoulder, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He knew something was up. There was a sick scheme playing out in your eyes.

He glanced from you, to the rowdy group of giants the next space over, then back to you with a harder look.

"None of your business," You spat, thinking him funny to try to get in your way like this in front of people. He usually acted like you were the dirt on the bottom of his shoe in public.

You only went to his games to spot cute boys, anyway. This time you were actually successful and felt so inclined as to approach said-cute-boy.

"Let go," You wrenched your arm out of his gross, sweaty hand and scoffed, walking off towards Karasuno's beautiful, meaty Ace.

There was a muttered, 'Whatever,' and you knew he didn't care enough to foil your plans again. They did just lose.

The thought crossed your mind to remove your Nekoma school hoodie only after it was too late. Karasuno spotted some enemy colors and quieted upon your approach.

Any confidence you had gathered shrank tenfold-- but you locked in on the subject of your desire and remembered your divine mission.

Get railed. This week.

That wouldn't happen if you backed down now or fucked up the plan.

He was in the center of his team, so you had to give some small 'Excuse me's to get to who you were here for.

Shocked, silent looks were exchanged all around when you stopped in front of him at last.

You were gathered in a sea of players, trapped to carry out the reason that brought you here.

"Um," You found it impossible to look at his face, so you looked forward at his chest while you gathered the courage, "That was a good game."

You tried to swallow the growing need to scream when you looked up. He had facial hair, you realized- his eyes were deep brown, his skin dark tan, and he was one of the two tallest on the team.

It occurred to you that you picked the biggest, baddest guy in this hall.

You grabbed his hand and deposited a piece of paper inside, "Call me."

Unable to look at his face again, you decided that was enough to get your point across and sifted through the gathered crowd of Karasuno's team members.

With your back turned, head swimming with regret at your forwardness, you couldn't see nor understand the strangled sounds of teenage boys celebrating their cowardly ace getting a cute girl's number like that.

Pushing, pulling, laughing, shoving, and other celebratory verbalizations were far behind you when you joined Nekoma once again- your home team beyond curious as to what you did to make their rivals even louder.

taglist.

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masterlist. taking requests.

[sirenmoth]

Monster Mash - Drider

CW: Bondage, body worship, vaginal fingering, restraints, cum smearing, scent marking, scent marking via cum, spider anatomy, cum insertion, (i promise it makes sense), (literally looked up if spiders have dicks and how spider sex works)

Sorry for the delay, personal stuff happened but im working on the next two chapters when possible

AO3

Monster Mash Masterlist

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Legs sore and trembling like a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time since opening its eyes, sleep still heavy and ever present on your mind as you try and traverse the massive manor you all share using the walls as support, still as naked as the day you were born. The sudden sound of quickly fast approaching scuttling footsteps and a pair of drow arms around your bruised waist alert you of a new presence as you are lifted into the air.

The relief you feel once you are off your feet, legs no longer shaking to keep you up-right, as the drider carries you away and towards his web, gently placing you into the centre like an ornate piece of porcelain, closing your eyes and letting yourself sink down into the sticky mass of string below. Your mind barely registers your limbs being moved around, lovingly and carefully being tied and secured in place by the driders own silk.

Eight spider legs and a set of drow arms come into peripheral vision as the drider climbs into his own web, taking his spot between your spread legs. Eight sets of eyes, six spider and two drow, borrow deep into your skull, never once looking away as the drider takes in his work.

A soft chitter echoes in your brain, "Still awake, my dear?" A breathy chuckle follows his question, "We are far from done, I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun." He says, nipping at the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, his silver snow-white hair falls over his shoulders, the light from the window casting a dull halo around it. "He just loves to ruin you for us, doesn't he, takes all the run out of it." None of them used each other's name, a way of showing their still burning distaste for each other.

The drider starts to rearrange your limbs once more, moving you this way and that until he finds the perfect positions for you to be relaxed and comfort, and for him to worship you and love you. Once your arms are resecured and restrained once again by his soft silk string, he moved onto your legs, replacing them, so your knees were pulled up close to your legs and spread open as wide as they could be. Small click and chirps of approval leave the drider mouth as he works, clearly pleased with his work and your compliance.

With your arms above and legs spread, nothing was left to the imagine, more than it usually was. You lie your head back into the web, the room the drider picked and claimed as his nest was always warm, despite being in a drafty attic, must be all the tightly-packed webbing the covers every corner and wall.

He covers your body with his, his torso slotting between your immobile legs, his spider legs curls under his spider abdomen as his drow arms trace the marks that dot your body left behind by the vampire, tiny hisses and grumbles can be heard every time he examines and assesses a new one.

"He does this on purpose, knows how sore you get after he feed, knows we have to go easy or wait until you heal enough." He tsks as he traces a bruising mark on your hip, "Don't worry, my darling light, I'll be gentle. Make this all about you." The drider kisses a huge mark where your neck and your shoulder conjoin, a bright red now turned blue-ish purple hue, carefully places his hands on your damaged thighs, lightly kneading the flesh, mindful of the bloomed bruises and healing bites that litter your skin.

Rolling your head to the side as your drider leaves a trail of kisses up your neck, his mandibles that sit where his drow half connects to the spider half move lightly, the small fangs at the ends of them gracefully dancing along your lower abdomen just above your cunt, careful not to puncture your skin. Soft kisses are placed just below your left ear, like the drider is trying to fix the marks your vampire lover left.

Those eight eyes always looking in your direction whenever you are near, no matter what either you two are doing, observing your action. He worships you like he would his drider queen, but only you have the pleasures of begging with him.

Little butterfly kisses are pressed against your temple and check, a small distraction while his finger trail downwards towards your dripping slit, tapping your clit with featherlight touches, you softly whimper at the feeling, mind still foggy from sleep and the soft silk webbing underneath was only adding to your delirious mindset. Unable to move due to the strands of silk that weave over and under your legs, you can only lay there and take it as the driders move lower, teasing your entrance. Twitching and squirming as the drider timidly plays with you.

You are like a fly, stuck in a spider's web, waiting in anticipation as the spider plays with you until it decides to devour you. Slowly, the drider slides three fingers into you with no warning, your body accepting him with ease. He pushes and pulls and presses at the sensitive nerve deep inside you, calculated strokes to make you fall apart all over again but to ensure you aren't hurt, the drider mandibles toy with your clit, nibbling and nipping at the exposed nerve while he studies you expressions, watching you moan and whimper, watching your attempts to squirm as you beg for more, for him to move faster.

Your drider takes pleasure in treating you like the most precious thing in the world, something that could break so easily, and he found joy in making you break while he had you tied up like this and his fingers deep inside you as your mind shatters in pleasure, sometimes he would use one of the toys you have, though him and the other eight never understood why you have toys when you have them, all you had to was ask, and they'd let you ride them or fuck you, or you fuck them, until you were satisfied. They do admit it is fun using the toys on you while they do their thing, they never use them as they do nothing for them.

One of the driders hands cups your left breast, squeezing the mound of flesh and pulling at the nipple between his fingers, tugging after each squeeze to create an unwavering, rhythmic sensation that sends euphoric shockwaves through your body. His fingers and hand move in opposite tandem of each other, when his fingers pull out his hand squeezes, slow and calculated, as he leaves small barely noticeable marks over the previous ones.

"So soft, your skin feels like the finest silk ever to exist," the drider mutters into your neck before biting over a mark the vampire left, "and all only for me." They all shared their own and mutual possession over you, displayed through the words they spoke while having a few fingers or a cock, sometimes cocks, pumping inside you, trying to outdo each other with their mark and claims.

Your whimpering and moaning only fanned the flame, the drider fingers sped up to a leg-shaking pace, or what would be if you could move your legs.

Low hums as the drider worships you and your moans fill his web as he coaxes you to cum on his fingers, "That's it, my darling, cum all over my fingers, mark me as yours." The squeezes on your breast grew more aggressive as his fingers move impossibly faster, the butterfly kisses turn into bites. You scream as you cum hard around his fingers as he curls them just right to hit your g-spot, your hole tightening as the mandibles stop their tweaking on your clit, resting against it as you catch your breath.

"So good, looked so pretty for me, so beautiful." The drider remarks, pulling his fingers out to admire your mess, mesmerized by the glimmer of white slick coating his fingers and the way it caught in the light. Bringing the slick covered fingers up to his mouth, he runs his tongue over the digits while keeping eye contact with you. Once he deems his fingers clean enough, he leans over you, "Lay back now, going to reposition you." He whispers into your right ear, you can do nothing but submit as he readjusts you, pulling you lower half high, so your sopping entrance lines up with his clicking mandibles, another chip and soft click once he finds the right placement.

You feel one of the fangs tracing your cunt, flinching at it as it runs up and down, collecting your cum. The drider pins you down under his drow half so he can work undisturbed, one of his hands stays put, playing with your hair while the other collects some of his own cum, letting it drip and run down your body, painting white streak with it across your skin as you try and piece together what the drider has planned. "Going to make you smell like me once I'm done, both inside and out, you'd look so breathtaking dripping with my cum."

Another kiss pressed just behind your ear, "See them try and get rid of my claim now."

One fang carefully slips into you, barely more than a few centimetres, while the other recoils in on itself, his free hand exploring your body like it's brand new to him all over again. The wetness between your thigh grows, you lift your head to watch as the fang that recoiled in returns with a clump of drider cum, pushing it into your gummy walls, quickly the drider reinserts his fingers back into you, forcing the large goop of white substance further into you, only retreating when the opposite fang wants to add its own ball of cum to the mix.

Your head falls back onto the web as your lover repeats the same process, the mixture of slick building between your thigh runs down and pass your ass, onto the web below to combine with the silk, making it near impossible to tell what's web and what's not. "Cum for me again, my love, I know you can do it." The drider murmurs, forcing your dreary head back up to watch as one of the mandibles insert another large goop of seman into you, the drider picks up what didn't make it in and smears it on to your skin. You watch as fangs switch, left right, left, right, the drider re-entering the same three fingers back into you between the pattern, fingering his cum far into you.

Your legs shake in the restraints, your hole clamping down on the drider fingers as your mouth falls open in a silent scream of ecstasy as you cum hard on his fingers, the drider slows down until he deems his cum is deep enough, only then does he pull his fingers out. More kisses are left on your cheeks and the hand comes up from your cunt to stroke your hip, your cum joining to the messy streak on you, the driders warmth bleeds into your own as you both lay chest to chest with each other, staying in this position even after you've both calmed down, his arms around you and his legs under his abdomen.

"Hey, are you going to untie me now? My limbs are going numb."

"Oh right. Sorry, my love."

[starwrighter]

Dude, get a restraining order

(Prompt) (Ao3 link)

(The results from the poll have arrived!! You have chosen unintentional Yandere Damian! )

Danny had a feeling the next several months were going to suck. Out of everyone in his school, he'd been the one picked for the whole "Transfer student," nonsense. With his reputation, you'd think he'd be the last person you'd want to show off out of state.

Regardless, Danny was chosen, and now he was on a plane headed to New Jersey Gotham. "The City of Crime" sounds like a blast and a half. All the rouges and criminals that wouldn't be his problem to deal with. It seemed like heaven in theory, but Danny knew with his luck he'd be getting mugged left, right, and center.

Pressing his face against the window, Danny allowed his mind to wander. To the portal, the friends who wouldn't be here to support him, to the ghosts who didn't want to kill him. Dani and Val were going to pick up the slack back home but that wouldn't help with the rumors no doubt going around about Phantom's disappearance. He could only hope he still had a secret identity when he got home.

Maybe if he did crime against the local vigilantes he'd get sent home early...

No, the rouges and local criminals did that on a daily basis they wouldn't crack from a little trolling. Or maybe they would? Then again, Red Hood used guns and the current Robin ran around with a real ass god-damn sword so trolling was a bad idea.

In all honesty, Robin was intimidating even with the little information he had about him. All he had were blurry, articles from various news outlets and attempted interviews with some ridiculously persistent reporter. Robin sounded more cryptic than he was! The entire concept of a teenager his age manifesting out of the shadows and chasing him with a katana would forever be his biggest concern during his stay in Gotham.

When the plane touched down Danny was left in a busy airport terminal. Vague instructions from his teachers and chatter from the employees trying to get him out onto the street as soon as possible were all he had to go off right now. Also, a brochure that he was 90% sure was all bullshit.

Gotham's air felt closer to smoke than it was anything breathable. Burning his nostrils, a scent of gas and cigarette smoke pretty much engulfed the city. It was so bad the second he took a breath, his core jolted, snapping into gear, not allowing anything to enter his lungs before it filtered. He'd never been so glad about dying until now, and never had he ever been as impressed in a population as he was now.

Danny had only been here for ten minutes or so but he'd already come to the conclusion that Gothamites were as metal as amity parkers. Wandering through the city, Danny tried to keep his face neutral. Not a smile or the slightest tell that he wasn't from here. He'd rather not get mugged before he reached his apartment. Though, maybe a fatal injury would get him sent home early.

Looking down at the map on his phone, Danny drew closer to the apartment building he'd been assigned to stay at. Supposedly, it was closer to the rich kid school he'd be temporarily attending. Why they decided it was okay for a teenager to live by himself in Gotham was a complete and total mystery. He could only hope he wouldn't die a second time during his stay.

Getting the key from the front desk was a much easier process than he'd thought It'd be. But it could never be quick enough. His suitcases were heavy!! And he was so very very tired. When he got into his apartment he tossed his suitcases onto the floor, inspecting the place he'd be staying for the next few months. It pretty good setup, a bathroom with a combined bath and shower, a tiny kitchen for cooking, and a small bedroom with a twin XL mattress. Grey sheets that Danny didn't quite trust were clean. Danny barely had the time to settle in before he was pelted with schedules, school rules, and uniform requirements.

His uniform as supplied by the school was a navy blue blazer with the school label embroidered on the pocket. A tie striped black and blue tucked into a stuffy-looking dress shirt. Overall it felt more like he was dressing up for one of Vlad's stupid Gala's than it did school.

He wasn't given any time to unpack, not a second to relax or get used to his surroundings. Nope! He was expected to pack up his school supplies and head to school right away! Seriously, not a minute before the front office was asking where he was, as if offended he didn't teleport to school the moment he touched down.

The school itself was intimidating. Twice the size of Casper High, it looked like a private school. It also looked like a school where he'd face severe bullying. Just from looking at the entrance, he could tell this building had proper equipment down to the most obscure of clubs. Kids rushed past him some looking panicked as a school bell rang while others just seemed annoyed.

He strolled leisurely through the school hall on the way to the office. There was no rush, he didn't even want to be here. What were they going to do? Send him home? Oh no, what a tragedy! Snickering under his breath, Danny scrolled through the avalanche of texts Vlad was sending him. All of them pertaining the same message of "Get your ass to school you're making me look bad!" It almost convinced him to skip but the pissed-off edge to the office lady's voice in their last phone call was enough to goad him into creeping into the office.

A face of thinly veiled annoyance rested on the desk lady's face. He could barely get a word out before a school map and schedule were shoved into his hands. A bare-bones explanation of the school rules was given along with his school ID before he was all but shouted at to get to class.

You'd think there'd be an adjusting period where they'd walk him through everything and let him get settled in at his own pace, but nope! This is Gotham! Apparently, that's not how they roll with transfer students. It's like they wanted him back in amity as much as he did.

He wasn't sure if he liked that or not...

(I don't know who want's to be tagged for this one)

[katiexpunk]

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AO3 | Notifications | KoFi About Me

Hi, I'm Katie! I'm just a lil fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy.

- I'm a cancer sun, taurus moon, libra rising. - When I'm not writing, you'll find me teaching yoga, doing improv, or fostering kittens.

- I love to make new friends, so feel free to slide into my DMs and ask me anything, send in a request, or just say hi. About My Work/This Blog - I write for Pedro Pascal characters, but you'll find I mostly write for Joel because that's my man. While I will often thirst over Pedro here, I won't write RPF.

- My DM's are always open, and I love getting asks or requests. My blog is a safe space. - All of my work is character x fem!Reader. I try to be inclusive as possible in my work to make it immersive and welcoming, and I don't provide identifying descriptions such as eye, hair, or skin color. I also avoid non-inclusive terms such as "blushing." I'm not perfect. If you find my work to be non-inclusive in some way, please let me know! - You'll catch me dead before I use Y/N. - I love supporting people on this platform, especially newer blogs. I'm pretty vocal about the importance of reblogging and engaging with people here in a respectful way. I'm also more than happy to beta! - I do not consent to my work being fed to AI or used to make chat bots. ++++ Most Recent Fics:

+ Overloaded + Scarlet Haze - Part 1 | Part 2 + Fuck Me, Fill Me | Thoroughly Fucked, Thoroughly Filled

∞ smut | ⊙ fluff/slow burn | ❥ dark themes/check warnings | ☁ angst

Series:

Scarlet Haze - Ongoing ∞⊙❥☁ Pairing Joel Miller X fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - Coming 5/26 | AO3 Summary: Life in the QZ was fairly predictable. That was until Joel Miller showed up on your doorstep covered in blood. Since then, you've helped him more times than you can count. Now, it's his turn to return the favor.

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Sex On Fire - Complete ∞⊙ Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller x fem!reader Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3 Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them.

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Fuck Me, Fill Me - Complete ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 Series Summary: Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. You spent years successfully avoiding one. Except things are different now, you're ready for more. Your husband Joel is more than happy to oblige.

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Dream of Me - Complete ∞⊙❥ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 Summary: In the dark of the night, temptation beckons. You make a silent vow to share your secret with Joel when he wakes tomorrow, but for now, you find yourself unable to resist this opportunity, much like the pulse between your thighs.

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28 Floors - Complete ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3 Series Summary: You're a good girl. A senator's daughter who is always there to show your support to your father. What he doesn't know is that his best friend, Joel Miller, is practically the only real reason you show up to events to support him. After one night of schmoozing, you and Joel end up in an elevator alone together. Joel Miller has 28 floors with you, and you bet he's gonna use them.

One Shots:

Desert Dust ∞⊙❥ Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader Joel's POV | AO3 Summary: You're a small-town waitress in a highway town in Arizona with a standard, safe life. You never really thought you needed more -- until you met Joel Miller.

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Overloaded ∞⊙❥ Pairing Joel and Tommy Miller and fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: After catching your ex-boyfriend in your bed with another woman, you pack up and leave. With no money and no car, you end up hitchhiking back to Texas. You're lucky enough to catch a ride with a nice Trucker named Joel. Things quickly heat up between you two, and only get hotter when you meet his brother.er really thought you needed more -- until you met Joel Miller.

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Diner Girl ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one.

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Crying Over Spilt Detergent ∞⊙☁ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You've had a no-good, really shitty, bad day. You decide to catch up on your growing laundry pile, only for your day to get worse as you make a giant mess of the detergent. Joel Miller helps you clean it up, and he cheers you up in the process.

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The Art of Noticing ∞☁ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. That was until it almost got you killed. And Joel Miller hates you for it. 

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Nightmare Before Christmas ∞❥ Pairing dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked.  Most of the time.  Tonight is not one of those times. This one is dead dove do not eat. Mind the warnings.

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Run the Table ∞☁ Pairing Joel & Tommy Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table.

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Tell Me A Secret ∞⊙ Pairing Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're an artist. You aren't quick to share that fact, but Ellie is fast to figure it out. It’s not long before all of Jackson knows. Your favorite muse, though, is Joel Miller. He has no idea. Until he does. A morning horse ride turns into so much more.

Collaborations:

Little Mouse ∞❥☁ Pairing biker!Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 In collaboration with the amazing @josephquinnswhore Summary: Date night. Your favorite. You were dressed up and ready for a good time, only to find out that your sleazeball boyfriend was really just a jerk. Stood up and now alone in a bar on the bad side of town, you quickly come to realize you shouldn’t be there for more reasons than one. An unexpected savior to your shit night, a masked motorcycle rider quite literally saves your life, not caring whose blood was on his hands as a result. His only ask as a token of your appreciation? That you go for a ride with him. What could ever possibly happen?

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Sugar, Spice and Please Fuck Me Nice ∞⊙ Pairing Neighbor!Joel Miller x fem!Reader | AO3 In collaboration with my Slutty Smutty Sister @syd-djarin Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Summary:  Part 3 of @syd-djarin's Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice series. Joel is your new hot neighbor and after a sexy night alone with him on Halloween (where he literally makes you squirt (!!) on his couch, you run into him after a long week at work and you two finally go on a proper date. You two eat burgers; go to a fair, and then he fucks you like it's his last day on earth. Yep :)

Drabbles:

The Kind of Love We Make ⊙ Hands, Hands, Hands ∞

One Shots:

Caller Number Nine ∞⊙ Pairing Javier Pena x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're a radio host of a popular late-night segment on relationships, advice and more. After a particularly bad night of calls, your final call of the night takes you by surprise.

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Heat Wave ∞☁⊙ Pairing Pairing Javier Pena x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up.

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Reporting For Duty ∞⊙ Pairing Javier Pena x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You're a flight attendant. You need to be fucked, and that much becomes all the more obvious when a hot, flirty Air Marshal named Javier shows up to fly your leg with you. That's it. That's the fic.

Drabbles:

Edging ∞

Gas, Grass or ASS ∞❥ Pairing mechanic!Frankie Morales x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: You muster the courage to leave your small town and shitty past behind. Fate, it seems, has other plans. Your beater of a truck breaks down in the middle of the highway, and you get it towed to Catfish Auto & Repair. After finding out you don't have the money to pay, you and Frankie find another way to work it out.

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The Invited ⊙ Pairing Lucien Flores x fem!Reader | AO3 Summary: Lucien Flores is invited back into your life in a very unexpected way, at a very bad time – what are you going to do about it? 

Last Update: May 20, 2024

[sop-soap]

As you guys have probably already seen, ao3 is down because of a DDOS attack, which means an organized group of people are flooding ao3 servers with requests as a form of protest. They’re doing this specifically to target the queer and nsfw content found on fanfiction sites, and singled out ao3 because it is a non-profit with no corporate backing to protect it. Their ‘reasoning’, if you can even call it that, is here.

PLEASE, do not refresh your Ao3 pages. Close all your ao3 tabs and do not log in or try and load any fanfics until this is sorted out. We want to make this as easy for ao3 to resolve as possible. SPREAD THE NEWS and show support for the volunteer staff of ao3 that are currently working to try and fix this.

The ao3 staff has made it very clear that none of your data is in danger from this attack, and that all they request is for your cooperation and support in the process of resolving this.

[eponastory]

Oh besties... we've got a live one on our hands...

*edit* I've actually read this fic myself, and so have others. If you haven't read it but want to, DM me for the link. I want to give this writer as much support as possible. I will be reviewing this fic later because it is good. *

Ehem... so I don't have a problem with people expressing their opinions on something, but this is bullying.

Taking someone's fanfiction and posting it on Tumblr to make fun of the writer is fucking stupid. Someone wrote this with a lot of time and thought, voicing their opinions through their creativity. That's like me going into the kat*ang tag on AO3 and posting someone's hard work just to ridicule them, then completely invalidate their work of FICTION because I don't like the pairing.

I'd never do that because I'm not a fucking bully nor am I an idiot.

But Zutarians are called toxic and delusional. The only delusion is that people believe they have the moral high ground because their pairing is canon. So fucking what?! It's fanfiction created by passionate fans of a beloved show.

Get over yourselves, Kat*anglanders. You aren't perfect. And your morals suck.

At least we don't do shit like this.

*another edit because this is hilarious and by godzilla it made me go off*

This idiot 🙄 actually said in a reblog, that it's just common etiquette to not tag the ship you don't want to see.

I am really close to going Super Sayain 3 here...

It's common fucking etiquette to not screenshot someone's work and post it on Tumblr to tear it apart because you don't like how your best Boi is portrayed!

You are turning me into a heathen at this point.

Because we all know you deliberately did this. But you want to call Zutara fans idiots?

No. Nope. Not gonna fly. This isn't a get out of jail free card.

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

Wednesday

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 3,7k

A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾

I. LILAC

Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm. 

His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.

Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.

As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.

7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.

8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.

At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?

“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text. 

You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?

The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony.  The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.

As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.

“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.

He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.

“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”

“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way. 

You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.

Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.

“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”

“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.

“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”

Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.

“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”

“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.

“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”

The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.

Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.

Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.

This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.

“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.

“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.

“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.

“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.

The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.

Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back. 

Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.

Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.

People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.

His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.

It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.

The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.

“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.

Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.

“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.

“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”

“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.

“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.

“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.

“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.

“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.

“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”

“Sam,” Henry says firmly.

“Abigail,” you speak loudly.

Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you. 

“Teresa,” Tess points at her.

“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place. 

You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.

You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.

Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.

“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.

“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”

“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.

“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.

The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.

“Who is Sarah?”

“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”

“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.

“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”

Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.

“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”

He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.

“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.

“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”

“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”

That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.

“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.

“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”

“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.

“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.

He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy. 

The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.

Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.

“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.

“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.

“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”

“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.

“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.

“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.” 

And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.

“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.

“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. next chapter